Dumbledore's Men
by Jocelyn
Summary: Sequel to Duel. The war is over. But something has survived. Snape and Harry learn their shared devotion to Dumbledore is a connection not easily broken. Snape mentors Harry. Now Complete.
1. Flight

**_A/N:_**_ Yes, I have caved in to reader pressure (and my muse) and present to you the sequel of "Duel".I had originally planned to make this a series of one-shots, but that did not work out. Instead, this shall be the first chapter of "Dumbledore's Men," my post Half-Blood Prince story,and it is the tale of Harry and Snape's efforts after the end of the war to destroy one last lingering remnant of Voldemort still in the world—a remnant that would not have existed if their loyalty and trust in Dumbledore during the war had been enough to overcome their hatred for each other. Enjoy!_

**_Plug:_**_ I am proud to announce that my dear Mum has begun a solo story, beginning shortly after Half-Blood Prince ends. It is called "Tea and Sympathy," and may be found under her username "Jocemum." Go read it! Mum's first fic is a heck of a lot better than my first one was!_

_And now, without further ado…_

**Chapter One: Flight**

"Why have you spared no thought for your friends, Potter?" Snape asked Harry as they made their way through the woods surrounding Little Hangleton.

"I'll let them know I'm all right once I'm out of the way," Harry said dismissively. He thought it was rich, Snape acting concerned about his friends' feelings.

Having retrieved their wands, they had slipped quickly from the battlefield into the concealment of the trees, making their way on foot beyond the massive anti-apparation wards that Voldemort's forces had placed over the village. They kept a close eye out for any Death Eaters who might be fleeing that way as well. Both of them were wounded—from battling each other as much as Voldemort's followers. At one point, Harry tripped over a root and landed on his knees. Grunting in surprised pain as he tried to right himself, he felt Snape catch his arm to pull him up.

"Get off!" he exclaimed, startled and embarrassed, and Snape snorted and let go—so quickly that Harry didn't have a chance to get his balance back and wound up on the ground again. He glared over his shoulder as he heard Snape laugh at him. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea,_ he mused, stumbling on and imagining the days ahead with no one but Severus Bloody Snape for company.

Harry hated Snape. Finding out the real reason the one-time professor had killed Albus Dumbledore hadn't changed that. If anything, it had made Harry hate Snape even more. He understood now why Snape had gotten so angry the night Dumbledore had died when Harry had called him a traitor. Snape had been the person Dumbledore trusted more than any other—even more than Harry. Snape had been the only one with the courage to fulfill the headmaster's hardest request…to kill him.

Harry would always hate Snape for it. Dumbledore had asked Snape to kill him, that night in the Astronomy Tower, and he'd done it. Right before Harry's eyes. Harry had loved Dumbledore and been loyal to him above all others, and he'd had to watch him die. He didn't know if someone like Severus Snape was capable of loving at all, but one thing was certain: Snape had only ever done what Dumbledore asked. He'd been loyal to Dumbledore above all reason too.

Loyal enough to kill him. And for that, Harry would always hate him.

Almost as much as Snape hated Harry.

Harry knew Snape hated him, of course—not that he cared. But it had been for Harry that Dumbledore had sent Snape to spy, to suffer, and finally, to murder his own mentor. At least that was how Snape viewed it. Dumbledore hadn't asked of those things for himself, but for Harry, so Harry could win the war, but also…because he had loved Harry too. Snape had always hated Harry for that.

Yet here they were. Because when it came to it, Harry and Snape would both rather spend the days in the aftermath of the war with someone who hated him but would at least leave him alone than among the Ministry and reporters of the whole bloody wizarding world with their questions and gushing and fawning.

_Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the great wizard who defeated Voldemort…_

_Ugh._ No, he'd much rather deal with Snape. The devil you know, and all that.

* * *

They had reached the edge of the woods by dawn, and looked wearily out over the rolling hills. "Where are we going?" Harry asked.

"That's for you to decide, isn't it?" Snape said sourly.

Harry would have snapped at him if he hadn't been so tired. Instead, he just muttered, "No, I don't have anywhere to go. Don't know anywhere either."

He felt Snape's eyes on him, but didn't look up. After a moment, Snape said, "There was a place Dumbledore had prepared, in case I was ever found out. I do not believe the Order knows of its existence. It should suffice." Harry sighed. "Does that meet with your approval, Master?"

Flinching as if stung, Harry looked sharply at him. Then he just glared. "Oh, please," he grumbled, annoyed at having let himself be goaded. "Just get us there. Do we have to apparate?"

"Yes." Snape took his arm, and Harry suppressed a shudder. Being touched by Snape made his skin crawl. "Hold still."

Apparating with injuries was a bad idea, Harry recalled as he dropped to the ground to be sick once they had arrived. Snape was hurt too, but Harry was too distracted for several minutes to see how his traveling companion had taken the journey. By the time he'd recovered, Snape was striding toward the back door of a rather worn-looking little house.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, looking around. There were other houses on the street around them, but no one was about at this hour.

"An Order safe house, outside Belfast."

"You think nobody will come looking?" Harry said doubtfully.

"They will. But we will only be staying the night." Snape shot Harry a sneer at his confusion. "Neither of us is in a fit state to apparate across the Atlantic Ocean."

"He was going to send you to America?" Harry was surprised by that.

"There are other countries in the New World besides America, Potter," Snape informed him. "At the moment, I must see to my injuries, so I suggest you get some sleep."

Harry would have liked to point out that Snape could hardly order him around like a schoolboy anymore. He would also have liked to break the git's nose, but the trouble was that he was too tired to make the effort, no matter how tempting the thought. So he did as Snape said, retreating into one of the small bedrooms and fighting the urge to pull a face at the man as he left.

* * *

_"Albus, I…"_

_"Good gracious, Severus what are you doing up at this hour?"_

_"Something's gone wrong!"_

_"Come in, sit down, and calm down. Now, you are alive and hale as far as I can see, so that eases the worst of my fears."_

_"Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange came to see me."_

_"Interesting. Not an official visit, I take it?"_

_"When does the Dark Lord ever send Narcissa on anything official? No, she wanted me to intervene for her son. He has been given a mission by the Dark Lord."_

_"Really, Severus, I do wish you'd allow yourself to say his name—"_

_"Damn it, Albus, will you listen to me? I've backed myself into a corner. I'm going to be exposed. I made the Unbreakable Vow. Bella was watching…she has her suspicions aready, and I thought I could talk my way out of it…"_

_"Severus, please, calm down. How does this concern Draco?"_

_"He has a mission from the Dark Lord, here at Hogwarts. I swore to protect him, I…if he fails…to carry it out myself. But I...Headmaster, I knew the Dark Lord would order it of me one day, and they'll know now. Bella will expose me, if the Vow doesn't kill me first. God, Draco will probably wind up dead too."_

_"Severus, it cannot be as bad as all that. I daresay we can find a way for Draco to be aided in his quest while protecting the Order. His goal can't be that serious."_

_"Yes, it can."_

_"Would Voldemort trust Draco with a major mission?"_

_"No, and that is the point of Narcissa's visit. He intends to kill Draco on the pretense of his failure, but in fact it is to punish Lucius."_

_"Ah. I see. Well, in that case, you were right to pledge to protect him."_

_"Albus…his mission is to kill you."_

_"Oh dear. Is that all?"_

_"Albus!"_

_"Severus, we have all known that Tom would be stepping up his attempts on my life very soon. You said yourself that you expected him to order you to do it one day. This hardly comes as a surprise."_

_I am glad you're not concerned for your life, but the more pressing matter is that the Order will soon be without its most valuable source of intelligence. Namely, me."_

_"How modest you are."_

_"Will you please stop mocking me and tell me what the devil I should do now? We have plans to make; we must decide what information is most vital for me to acquire for the remainder of my time among them."_

_'I think you're being hasty, that is all."_

_"You're not concerned that within the next few months, I will have to break the Unbreakable Vow, expose myself as a spy, and probably end up dead in the process?"_

_"Not at all. I merely think you should not be so hasty to abandon your duties. I need you among them, Severus, now more than ever."_

_"For god's sake, Albus, we're out of options. I wish nothing more than to protect Draco, but there isn't a bloody chance he will succeed in this mission, and I can hardly aid him in killing you."_

_"On the contrary, Severus, that is exactly what you should do."_

_"……what?"_

_"Aid him. Carry out his mission for him. Heaven knows, poor Draco won't manage on his own, as you, Tom, and Narcissa have all observed. You must help the boy if he is to have any chance of surviving this year."_

_"Help him to…"_

_"Kill me. Yes, Severus, you and Draco shall have to kill me."_

_"…that…is…NOT…funny, Albus."_

_"My dear boy, I assure you, I am not joking."_

_"A likely story. I cannot kill you."_

_"Of course you can. What is more, I am asking you to do it."_

_"Damn it, Albus, I **despise** your sense of humor._

* * *

Severus woke with a start, coming straight from sleep to alertness as he always did, thanks to decades of habit. Sunlight was streaming through the western-most windows of the safe house; it was nearly dusk again. He cautiously stretched; the worst of his injuries were mending well. They could probably reach his refuge within forty-eight hours, depending on how Potter had fared.

With the boy annoyingly in mind (and cursing Albus twice over), Severus dragged himself from his bed and went in search of him. He found Potter still asleep, so heavily asleep that he did not stir when Severus entered the room. The sight of him there, sleeping blissfully, innocent and young…Severus wanted to _Crucio_ him out of it. An innocent appearance had little stock with Snape; Harry Potter had brought him nothing but misery all his life. For the boy's sake, at Albus's bidding, he had risked exposure time and time again, endanger himself, the Order, and the few people he might have called friends if they hadn't been Death Eaters. At Albus's bidding, Severus had killed to protect Harry Potter. He had killed Albus. And for those last six years, he had watched Albus fawn over the boy. The fact that Dumbledore had loved Harry Potter with all his heart only made it worse. He had never cared for Snape as he had cared for that boy.

Gritting his teeth against the urge to yank the ungrateful brat from sleep by the hair, or with a well-timed curse, Severus barked, "Potter!" The boy jerked back to consciousness, grabbing his wand, and Severus stepped back out of instinct. It annoyed him to have retreated from Harry Potter, but his instincts to avoid potential curses were VERY well-honed, and it was true, he had to admit, that the boy's power was nothing to be taken lightly. "Get up," he ordered. "We're moving on."

He hoped to see some sign of reluctance or irritation or any weakness at all in the boy, but to his irritation, there was only a vague nod as Potter threw off the covers, put on his glasses, and rose. Severus turned and started to lead the way out of the house, but made it perhaps three steps before the sound of the boy's breathing abruptly changed, and he looked back in time to see Potter sway. The boy's eyes lost focus and slid closed, and Severus caught him as he sagged to the floor. "Bloody hell, boy! What's the matter?"

A few slaps to the cheeks brought Potter round. "Wha…where…"

"Potter, do you have any untreated injuries?"

"Uh-uh," the teenager muttered, but Severus skeptically began performing Diagnostic Charms. Potter sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed with his eyes closed, as Severus determined that he had, all appearances to the contrary, managed to heal the worst of his physical injuries. But it did not take Snape long to determine the problem.

"You might have mentioned that you were suffering from magical shock," he observed.

Bleary green eyes opened and attempted to focus on him. "You're joking, right?" Potter sounded incredulous. "I've spent the past year chasing bits of Voldemort's soul all over the bloody wizarding world and trying to keep him from killing me before I managed to kill him first; I've been in bloody magical shock for months!"

"And I thought he fell rather easily," Severus sneered. Potter tried and failed to shove him away. "Sit down, you stupid child. Your power must recover before we can risk traveling anywhere. Go back to sleep. I will bring you a Restorative Potion shortly." He rose, making no effort to help the boy back to bed, but Potter's protest followed him.

"What about the Order? How long can we risk staying here?"

"This house has not been used for years," Snape replied. "In any case, I cannot imagine you are that reluctant to see your friends."

"Imagine it," the boy said, hauling himself back into bed and facing away from Snape.

Severus left the room with a shake of his head. _Ungrateful brat._

But he submitted to Potter's wishes and made no attempt to signal the Order, even when he managed to obtain a _Daily Prophet_ with a blaring headline about the search for the wizarding world's missing hero. From the paper, he learned that most of the Order with whom he had worked closely were alive, as were all of Potter's friends. But to his alternating puzzlement and irritation, Potter only gave the paper a cursory glance and showed no outward reaction to it.

_He is as selfish as his father was._

After forty-eight hours, Potter insisted they move on. Severus apparated them to another safe house in the Irish countryside, then was forced to watch the boy be sick again. "I did warn you it was unwise to travel so soon."

"Shut up," came the gruff reply as Potter staggered back to his feet. Severus shoved another vial of Potion into his hand and as before, left him to his own devices for the remainder of their stay.

* * *

The only time Harry had returned to Hogwarts last year had been to talk to Dumbledore's portrait. All that the headmaster kept telling him was that there was something important he needed to know, but insisted that he had to master Occlumency first. "It is vital information, Harry, but as is often the case with vital information, the consequences if it is discovered by the wrong people would be catastrophic. You must be absolutely certain that no one can reach it in your mind."

Harry hadn't had any masters of Occlumency to practice with anymore—not that the one he _had_ practiced with had done any good—but he had worked furiously, first to clear his mind, then to close it. To anyone. And everyone. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had practiced with him, with the help of Professor Lupin and Headmistress McGonagall.

After nearly a year, he went back to the headmaster's office. "I can protect it," he told Dumbledore's portrait.

Apparently, Dumbledore believed him, because the portrait swung out, revealing a space in the wall containing several small bottles. Harry recognized them as memories. "The Pensieve is in the cabinet," Dumbledore told him. "What you will see in my memories, they are true, Harry. I must warn you they will come as a shock, but you must try to accept them."

Harry stared at the first bottle in the line, turning it around and around in his hand. "Please, Harry," Dumbledore prompted softly. "I would never deceive you in matters so serious. You must believe me."

With that ominous warning, Harry emptied the first bottle into the Pensieve, and learned the truth.

* * *

_"NEVER!"_

_"Severus, please…"_

_Snape__ paced furiously back and forth in Dumbledore's office as the headmaster looked on. "I draw the line, Albus, I WILL NOT do it!"_

_Dumbledore sighed. "There is no other way to save you."_

_"Then I will die. We knew it was a possibility from the beginning. All the intelligence in the world is not worth your loss." Snape folded his arms. "It was only a matter of time before he gave an order I could not follow; this is it. It's over, Albus."_

_Severus__, I am not willing to sacrifice you now," Dumbledore said, rising and attempting to put a hand on Snape's shoulder, but Snape shook him off._

_"I am. I will not have you on my conscience on top of everything else."_

_"And Draco?" Dumbledore pressed quietly._

_Snape__ flinched. Closing his eyes, he muttered, "I will do what I can for him."_

_"You can do more f—"_

_Snape__ rounded on the headmaster. "YOU could do more for him than I ever could! Damn it, Albus, you should concern yourself with getting Draco safety rather than this ridiculous death wish!"_

_"I cannot save Draco, Severus. He does not trust me. He trusts you."_

_"I distrusted you once. You could win Draco over," Snape said stubbornly._

_"We do not have that time, Severus, you know it as well as I," the headmaster put a hand on Snape's shoulder again, and this time, the professor did not pull away. "Severus. I am asking this of you, as the only member of the Order I can trust with it. I have more faith in your courage than any other, even my Gryffindors," he added._

_Snape__ turned and stared at him, white-faced, his jaw clenched. "This has something to do with Potter, doesn't it?"_

_"To win the war always has to do with Harry."_

_"That's not an answer!"_

_"Harry does not need me to win the war."_

_"THAT DOES NOT MAKE YOU EXPENDABLE!" Snape roared. "You are asking me to sacrifice what is left of my humanity and my honor, to murder the only true friend I have ever had—WHY?"_

_Dumbledore came to stand directly in front of the distraught man, looking in his eyes. "Because your role in this struggle is more important than mine. And beside that, given the chance to choose between your life and mine, as I have been given now, I would always choose your life. Or Draco's life. Or Harry's life. You deserve to see the end of this war more than I. I mean that, Severus." He took both of Snape's shoulders, and Snape dropped his head with a shudder, staring at the floor. "We need you. We need your courage. We need the one who can do anything necessary, no matter how painful, to end this. For everyone. You are braver even than I, my friend. I could not face the horrors you have faced all these years in his service. Our side needs you."_

_"And Potter. This is about him somehow."_

_"Harry needs you too. Please, Severus."_

_"Albus.." Snape's voice dropped to a whisper, and he still did not look up. "I can't. Please, do not ask this…"_

_"I am. I must."_

_Snape__ wrenched away, turning his back on Dumbledore. In a voice rough with despair, he said, "It will destroy me."_

_"It won't. You will have Draco to care for, the war to win. I am not engaging in shallow flattery, Severus; you are the bravest man I have ever known. All the demons of hell could not destroy you," Dumbledore said softly._

_Letting out his breath in a rush, Snape headed for the office door, his face still turned away. Dumbledore called after him. "Severus…please…"_

_Snape__ paused in the entrance and glanced back over his shoulder. There was revulsion and hate etched in the harsh lines of his face. "I came to you for mercy and swore to do whatever you asked. I have never broken that vow."_

_"And then when the time comes, and I send for you…?"_

_"I…"_

_"…Severus?"_

_"As you wish, Albus."_

_And the door closed behind Snape with a hollow thud._

* * *

Harry was never quite sure how he got back to the Burrow that day, because he truly didn't remember anything in Dumbledore's office once he'd finished looking at the memories. There had been others after that, of Snape reporting what Draco and the Death Eaters were up to, Dumbledore making plans…and holding Snape to his promise anytime the Defense Professor began to waver. Harry had never seen Dumbledore quite so…bullying before. He would never have imagined Snape was the type to be bullied either.

But in the end, it wasn't bullying that had held Snape to his vow…it was pleading.

_"Severus…Severus…please…"_

Dumbledore hadn't been pleading with Snape to spare his life as Harry had thought that night. He had been pleading with Snape to end it. While Harry had stood right there, trapped and helpless, frantic…Dumbledore had held Snape to his vow. To kill him.

It was no wonder the Weasleys and Hermione were concerned when he came back home. "Where've you been, mate?" Ron asked, sitting at the kitchen table with Hermione. "You look done in!"

Harry looked at his friends, trying to make his mind stop moving in slow motion. Ron had been standing in front of him before he managed to reply, "Hogwarts. Had to…talk to…"

Hermione grimaced sympathetically. "Dumbledore's portrait. Sort makes it like he's still around, doesn't it?"

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ron asked, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, thinking that he needed to get off by himself and think, if he could just remember the way to his room… "I just need to…"

It was as if a gray fog rose up and swallowed him for a minute; his knees buckled, and in the distance, he heard Ron yelling, "Whoa! Bloody hell, mate! Are you all right? Someone give me a hand!"

He was slumped against Ron's shoulder with his friend trying frantically to hold him upright, but Harry felt too disoriented to do anything except let Ron and Hermione support him to the sofa. The world seemed to drift in and out of focus for awhile, and he came round to find his head in Ginny's lap while Mrs. Weasley tried to feed him a Potion. "Harry, dear, what's the matter? You look terrible!"

"I'm…okay," he managed to croak, and stood up in a hurry. He had to get away…had to think…

"Sit down, you've obviously had a shock," Hermione protested, as did the others, but Harry pulled away from them and ran up the stairs.

He didn't come down for dinner, and was still awake, staring out his window, when Ginny came into his room around three in the morning. "Harry. I thought you were still up."

Her voice seemed to come from a long way away. He turned to her as she crossed over to his side, but could not make a sound come from his throat. She seemed to understand, though, and said nothing more, just sat down next to him. It wasn't until he leaned toward her that she put her arm around him, letting his head rest on her shoulder.

"I don't know what's wrong," she whispered, rubbing his back. "Dumbledore told Mum it wasn't for him to say, but whatever it is…we're here, okay?"

He tried, he did, but he couldn't speak. He settled for embracing her hard, burying his face in her neck, and they sat that way for a long time. No doubt she was wondering what had happened to make him sit here, shaking himself apart in her arms, but how could he tell her? Even discounting the danger to her if anyone ever found out she knew…how could he tell her? How could he tell anyone…how could any of them bear it…he felt like it was killing him as it was.

_How can I tell them Dumbledore committed suicide?_

* * *

He had left the Burrow the next day and not been back since. It hadn't been until just before the final battle that Harry had finally kept his own promise to Dumbledore and told Headmistress McGonagall about Snape, leaving the memory bottles for her to see. Dumbledore had been very insistent that Snape's name be cleared and "his innocence made known."

But Harry had resisted, and despite what he'd told Dumbledore's portrait, it wasn't only out of a desire not to reveal the revered headmaster's choice. The real reason was…to admit the truth about Snape would force Harry to absolve the former professor of some of the blame for everything that had happened, and Harry didn't want to.

Simply put, he had wanted to keep hating Snape.

Oh, he'd done it, of course, as Dumbledore had asked, and no doubt Snape true role in bringing about the fall of Voldemort and the Death Eaters had already captured the wizarding world's imagination. But that didn't mean Harry had to like it.

Wandering out of the bedroom the morning after they arrived at the second safe house, he found Snape staring out the window. Just the sight of the man made hate course through him. Snape had killed Dumbledore, whatever the reasons or requests behind it. Harry had loved Dumbledore, and Snape had killed him. Harry had needed him; he shouldn't have died.

_Dumbledore…Sirius…Mum and Dad…he killed EVERYONE I loved!_

Snape glanced over his shoulder and saw Harry standing there. Sensing the older man wanted him to leave, Harry smirked and sat down defiantly in a ragged armchair. Snape glared at him and turned away.

"So how soon do we leave again?" Harry asked, deliberately sounding almost cheerful.

"That depends on whether you can manage the trip." Another person might have meant it as concern, but given the source, Harry knew better.

"I'm feeling fine," he said. "And I want to be out of here before the Order starts checking the safe houses. The idea's bound to occur to them sooner or later."

Snape turned around and slowly advanced on him, searching Harry's face as he had back at school when convinced Harry was involved in some mischief in classes. "Why are you so determined to cut off all contact with the Order, Potter?" Before Harry could invent an excuse, he added, "And do not insult my intelligence; I had plenty of sources of information on your doings before the end of the war. You made no break with them, nothing to warrant this refusal to inform them of your fate. Your friends are undoubtedly hysterical by this point."

Damn the man. Harry avoided his prying gaze, even though he was much surer of his Occlumency skills than he had been a year ago. "I just want to forget all this, is that so hard to understand?" he sighed.

"No, Potter, forgive me if I don't."

"Of course, _you _don't," Harry sneered, taking the offensive. "You were always jealous of my father, Sirius, and me. You wanted that…that popularity, didn't you? The _attention_ you always accused me of chasing—_you _wanted it! You can't understand how smothering it is." Seeing Snape's face go white, his black eyes flashing with rage, Harry dug a little further, feeling an odd sense of glee. "The grass is always greener, isn't it? Well, guess what, Snivellus, for all I bloody care, you can HAVE it! I wish YOU'D been the one who grew up without a family, told you were a freak for something you didn't understand, had people following you around all the time expecting you to be something you weren't, lying about you in the bloody papers, popping cameras in your face all the time!" He dodged an attempt by the former professor to slap him, and laughed bitterly. "You can have all the fame of mine you want. I wouldn't try to hold on to any of it."

Through clenched teeth, Snape growled at him, "But that does not explain your friends. As sickening as they are, their interest in you is not due to your fame, yet you have apparently chosen to abandon them to their grief and fear. Even if all the misery you describe in your self-pitying indulgence is true, your selfishness is appalling. Although considering the display you just engaged in, perhaps I should not be surprised that you are capable of that kind of cruelty even to those concerned for you."

Harry kicked a dusty foot stool out of his way as he paced around the room. "They don't understand either. Hermione's got all these great ideas for how I can use my fame to make the wizarding world a better place, and Ron still doesn't understand why I don't like signing autographs. I just want to be left alone." He sneezed amid the grime he was kicking up, and turned to glare at Snape. "You said you'd do what I wanted. This is it. I want to go away. I want to be left alone."

"You are mistaken as to the nature of my promise to Dumbledore, Potter." Snape waved his wand to blow the dust away from him—back at Harry, causing the younger man to sneeze again. "My vow to him was to aid you and protect you, not to mindlessly obey you."

"I knew you'd find a way to wiggle out of it. You do that a lot, don't you?"

"Spare me your cheek. If I am of the impression that you are acting against what ought to be your better judgment, then I will not hesitate to exercise my own in your place." Harry gave up trying to spell the dust away and spelled the windows open instead, glaring sideways at Snape in annoyance. "We will _not_ depart this country until you have communicated to the Order your condition and your intentions sufficient to reassure them of your safety."

"Like looking out for me will make up for all the Order members you got killed," Harry retorted. Snape's lips thinned, but he did not respond. With a furious snarl, Harry stalked out of the house.

* * *

A few hours later, they were ready to go. Potter had refused to allow Severus to read the missive he was sending to the Burrow, but permitted Severus to Legilimize him sufficiently to satisfy the older man that he was in fact complying with the terms of their agreement.

They went first to an owl post office to send the letter, then departed away from all civilization, wizard or Muggle, to attempt the intercontinental apparation necessary to reach their final destination. "Why didn't you just use a Portkey?" Potter wanted to know.

"Because, you ignorant child, Portkeys can be lost or disabled. Not to mention that if it were taken from me, the effectiveness of the safe house's hidden location would be compromised. Only Dumbledore and I could have found the place," Snape took the boy's arm. "Now. Do NOT move."

It gratified him just a bit to feel Potter's pulse accelerate before they took off.

The rest and expertly-made Potions over the past few days had healed the boy sufficiently to prevent him from being debilitated by the long apparation, but he was still disoriented for several moments after they arrived. When Potter straightened up, his irritation at the lingering weakness dissolved into frank curiosity as he took in their new surroundings.

Severus had to admit he had reacted in much the same way when he had first been brought here.

The safe house was a pleasantly-kept cottage on a tree-covered mountain that broke off into a rough cliff above frigid northern waters. The slope could only be navigated with great caution around boulders and weathered rock to its base, either in the forest behind them or the pebble-covered beach on the expanse of shore between theirs and the next mountain. The beach eventually gave way into more evergreen forest, the dark, towering trees hiding any trace of human habitation in the area. The water wearing away the mountainside was no ocean, but capable of its own brand of ferocity as it wore the stones of the beach into smooth flatness.

Potter rose from inspecting the reds and browns of the stone beneath his feet to take in the small waves on the freshwater sea that appeared to be their new neighbor. "Where are we?"

"Agawa Bay, Ontario, Canada," Snape informed him. "On the northern shore of Lake Superior. Wizarding habitation in this part of the world is sparse at best, and even Muggles seldom frequent this area outside of the summer." He watched the boy for any sign of dismay at their near total solitude, but there was none.

Watching a railway train winding its way around one of the other peaks further down the shoreline, Potter's eyes darkened. "I certainly don't want to deal with Muggles either."

Something in the boy's voice made Severus glance at him sharply, but his face revealed no further information. _Selfish brat._ With that thought, Severus turned toward the house and left Potter alone on the mountaintop, taking in their new home.

* * *

**_Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger  
_****_The Burrow  
_****_Ottery_****_ St. Catchpole, England_**

_I'm fine. Just want to be left alone.  
__Stop looking for me._

_H.P_

**_No Return Address._**

* * *

**_To be continued..._**

_**Coming Soon: **Harry and Snape may have found a hiding place from the rest of the wizarding world, but there is nowhere they can hide that the demons they carry within themselves will not find them. All that and more in Chapter Two: Refuge!_

**Please don't forget to review!**


	2. Refuge

**_A/N: _**_As you can guess, my plan to make this a series of short stories didn't work out. Now, Duel will serve as the standalone prequel to this tale: Dumbledore's Men. Thanks for all the reviews for Duel and Flight. Here is the next chapter! A bit shorter, but now that I've finally overcome a massive writer's block, I hope I can have more chapters out to you soon! Thanks for being so patient!_

**Chapter Two: Refuge**

Unlike the other Order safe houses Harry had visited, this one was very well-kept. A patch of sunlight filtered through a gap in the trees to strike the highly-pitched, dark roof that sparkled with flecks of silver. There was even what appeared to be a greenhouse, and a garden, much like the ones full of magical plants that Madam Sprout kept at Hogwarts.

But the biggest surprise to Harry came when the door opened, and a house elf wearing a pillowcase embroidered with moose tracks and Northern pines bowed low to them. "Welcome, Master Snape! Hattie has kept the house as Master Dumbledore ordered for Master Snape."

Snape nodded curtly to the elf. "We will be staying indefinitely."

The elf's brown eyes widened at the sight of Harry. "Hattie will prepare a room immediately for Master's son."

Harry stiffened, but Snape beat him to it. "This is a Hogwarts student. Harry Potter." His warning snarl cut off any exclamations of awe or praise that Hattie would have made. "See to it his living quarters are _well_ away from mine."

"Yes, Master," Hattie squeaked, and scurried away.

To Harry, Snape said curtly, "I hope you will do me the courtesy of amusing _yourself_ now we are here, Mr. Potter, unless you have a pressing need of assistance."

"Why would I inflict your presence on myself voluntarily?" Harry shot back, and stalked into the house ahead of him.

* * *

It was, Harry was relieved to find, easy enough to "amuse himself" without encountering too much of his (technically-speaking) host. As small and quaint as the cottage appeared from the outside, there were no close quarters to force him into Snape's company more than a few minutes out of every day.

The room Hattie arranged for him was on the opposite side of the house from Snape—for which both of them were immensely grateful—and upstairs, with even a little balcony where Harry could see through the trees to the cliff overlooking the giant Lake. At first he'd been unable to believe they weren't by the sea, but when he trekked his way down the mountainside to the rocky beach, he discovered that the water was indeed fresh—and exceedingly cold.

He liked walking on the shoreline and picking up the different-colored, smooth stones to examine, until he spotted Snape doing the same thing one day. Then he always made sure to stay in the house when Snape was outside, or be out of the house when Snape was inside.

Inside the cottage was a rather impressive library, the largest room in the whole house. Although Harry didn't like to look at anything that reminded him of Ron and Hermione, his own interest in the books was enough to overcome the pangs the room gave him, thinking of how the latter would squeal with delight over the collection. The hard part was getting into the room at a time when he was sure Snape wouldn't be there.

On one such occasion, he spotted the former professor making his way out into the garden, and hastened into the library to make the most of the time. Whatever Snape's professed interest in the Dark Arts, he apparently still kept a hand in at Potions, and was constantly brewing up new foul-smelling concoctions in the basement.

And Harry was pleased to discover that _this_ library had no Restricted Section, although there was little doubt that Snape would be demanding an explanation if the wrong volumes turned up missing. Most of the books on Potion-making Harry was content to leave well-enough alone (even a rather tempting tome entitled Potente Poisons To Fool Even The Masters), but he liberated a few that he doubted Snape would miss right away. The Unauthorized and Extensive History and Development of the Dark Arts would probably keep Snape occupied for awhile (not that Harry wouldn't have liked to get his hands on that one) before he came looking for the more, so-to-speak, _specialized_ volumes.

The solitude of their mountain-top, forest-covered cottage suited Harry just fine, although he did miss Hedwig sometimes. He'd sent her away before the final battle with instructions to stay with the Weasleys until he came for her, and there was no way she would reach him across the Atlantic Ocean.

So it came as quite a shock for Harry when a group of Muggles blundered their way noisily into a clearing below the site of the cottage, so close that Harry could hear them from his bedroom.

"I cain't git the durn fayr started!"

"Putsome charcoll on it, Grampa, it'll burn!"

"If we don' git the fayr started, we ain't gonna be aytin!"

And on it went. They never bloody shut up, especially when Harry heard them banging pots and pans to frighten off a bear they'd attracted with the smell of their cooking after dark. _Bloody Muggles._

* * *

Severus was vindictively glad that the Muggles had chosen to set up camp on Potter's side of the mountain. Once he satisfied himself that the ward-off Charms were in place and would keep the noisy group from straying too close, he went about his business (rather cheerfully at that). The boy, to his intense relief, stayed well out of his way, so he simply instructed Hattie to see to Potter's needs and inform him if there were any problems. She did not have anything to report, so he was unconcerned. It amused Severus on one occasion to see the boy storming down the opposite side of the mountain from the Muggle camp, irritation clear on his face. From the racket he had heard, no doubt the stupid Muggles were keeping Potter awake at night. Severus supposed he could have placed Noise-Dampening Charms up around them, but he truly saw no reason to do so.

But all too soon, in Snape's opinion, the motley crew packed up and left—rather hurriedly, as apparently one of the idiots had managed to get himself bitten by a snake while tramping through the underbrush. In any case, at least peace returned to the area.

Severus arranged for Hattie to discreetly obtain a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ each day, and left it where Potter could see it. Receiving word of the boy's survival and safety had not exactly reassured his friends and the Order; if anything, they were more frantic than ever. But to Snape's growing disgust, Potter did not once pick the paper up.

Still, the first week of their self-imposed exile passed easily and without incident…until Hattie popped into his laboratory in a panic. "Master must come quick! Young Master Harry is ill!"

Severus dropped his book and ran.

He found Potter face-down dangerously close to the cliff overlooking the water. More disturbing still was the book that the boy had apparently been fooling about with. Granted, there weren't any warnings that some of the spells contained therein were dark and dangerous—but one would think a wizard with the purported skill of Harry Potter would have had the sense to realize that once he started reading.

Muttering a few short remarks about Potter's ancestry, Severus hauled him up, satisfied himself that there were no immediately threatening injuries, and hovered the boy back to the house. A more thorough examination determined that Potter had not done himself any lasting harm, other than putting himself into magical shock yet again. Once he was satisfied that the boy would recover, he turned his attention to the book. What had the little idiot been playing about with?

He felt he could safely discount the spells that were openly hostile to Muggles and others, but the book puzzled him; even those spells that remained seemed far too obviously dark for Potter to attempt. Why would the boy have been fooling around with such a text at all? Surely a wizard so virtuous as the sainted Harry Potter would have dropped the thing like a hot coal once he saw what was in it. _Or I suppose Potter imagined himself immune to such influences,_ Severus mused, shooting the boy a disgusted glance. _Arrogant little brat._

Inevitably, Potter came round, and Severus felt no compunction about landing on him with both feet the moment he awoke. "What the devil were you playing at, you stupid boy? You could have got yourself killed!"

Once Potter's disorientation passed, to Snape's further irritation, he was as obstinate as ever. "Don't try to pretend you actually care."

"What spell were you trying to use? You're lucky there were no more serious effects."

Potter rolled over to face away from him, but finally muttered. "Power enhancer."

"Yes, I guessed as much. Which one?"

The silence that followed was so long that Severus thought for a moment the boy had fallen asleep. But at length, Potter sighed. "_Vis__ Vires._"

Scowling, Severus looked it up, but then found himself even more confused. Old Earth magic wasn't encouraged in mainstream wizarding, but as such spells went…Potter should have been able to invoke it with relative ease, yet he had obviously suffered a major failure: either he'd lost control of the spell, or the power had overwhelmed him. Either possibility seemed remote for one of Potter's magical strength. So why was he in shock again? A weaker wizard might have faced this, but surely not…wait.

_Weaker…_

"Potter, sit up."

Either Potter respected him more than he'd realized, or the boy was too weary to muster an argument, because he obeyed, his face gray as he pulled himself into a sitting position. Severus watched him carefully. "How long has your power been diminished?"

The green eyes that met his in alarm and dismay were dull, nowhere near as bright and clear as he remembered them. He was astonished that this possibility had not occurred to him before. Potter had killed the Dark Lord after all, and destroyed five Horcruxes, in between battling the various minions Voldemort had sent after him.

The boy sighed, scrubbing his face. "Bout since I got rid of the first Horcrux. Took a lot to overcome the curses on them, and…I just never completely got better."

"But you were able to defeat the Dark Lord."

Potter shrugged, looking away from Severus. "Maybe the loss of the Horcruxes weakened him too. Each time I destroyed one, it…got a little worse. Got harder to keep going. I had a feeling it'd…come to this."

Severus digested this as Potter lay back down, falling almost at once into a doze. A steady pattern of magical—and physical—weakening after destroying highly cursed objects, aggravated by constant dueling. Potter did not eat much, according to Hattie, and now that he considered it, Severus thought his health had not improved in the days since they'd arrived. And it should have, if this was merely a case of severe magical exhaustion.

One of the Horcruxes must have cursed the boy. Maybe more than one of them. The Dark Lord had tended toward multiple layers of protection on objects precious to him—he would have used both immediate and long-term curses against anyone who tampered with the pieces of his soul.

"Does the Order know of your condition?" he asked Potter a few days later, when he noticed him still moving slowly in the house.

Potter shook his head. "Nothing they could do. There wasn't time to lift the curses before I destroyed the Horcruxes, and once destroyed, no way of finding out what they were cursed with."

"You're remarkably resigned to your fate," Severus said, intending to sting the boy's pride.

Potter snorted. "Unlike some people, I don't spend all my time looking out for Number One. I knew the chances of me getting through it all unscathed—or unscarred, rather—weren't very good. I did what I had to do."

Severus glared at him. "The fact that I survived did not mean I was looking out for my own interests alone. You know that, boy."

"Yeah, but still everyone who ever trusted you wound up _dead,_" Potter sneered, and stalked out of the house before Snape could retort.

Left alone, Severus poured himself a glass of firewhiskey. He wondered if Potter could possibly know the absolute, complete truth of his cutting words. That Snape had been acting on orders some times, and other times, trying desperately to protect others' lives meant nothing…it was true: everyone who had trusted him was dead.

He had fulfilled his promise to Albus…and taken Albus's life. He had fulfilled his oath to Narcissa, aided Draco in every way…but even that had not assuaged the Dark Lord's wrath against Lucius and his family. Draco had died the day Lucius escaped Azkaban…at the Dark Lord's hand, while his parents watched. Narcissa had suicidally attempted to avenge her son, and Voldemort had slaughtered her as well. Lucius had not survived his next assignment.

Severus had been elevated to the Dark Lord's right hand, fulfilling the vacancy left by Lucius Malfoy, giving him more opportunities than ever to gather information and intelligence, to sow the seeds of the Dark Lord's destruction. But the cost…

_Damn Harry Potter._ Severus felt his hatred for the heroic, self-sacrificing brat increase still more. _May you one day be forced to choose between the lives of all that matter to you and the greater good of our kind. Where will your Gryffindor nobility be then?_

* * *

If it had not been for his final oath to Albus, Severus would have been perfectly happy to watch Potter waste away from the residual Horcrux curses. But promises to the dead gave him no such pleasure, so he turned his research pursuits to determining remedies for the boy's condition. 

Potter himself was less than helpful.

"We should contact the Order. Whether you wish to see your friends or not, they have resources not available to me here," he said one afternoon after cornering Potter in the garden.

"For the twelfth time, the answer's no," Potter said flatly. "I don't want to deal with the Order anymore."

"Your self-centeredness astonishes me, Potter," Snape finally exclaimed. "You care nothing for your own life or the suffering you have undoubtedly inflicted on your besotted friends. The curses from the Horcruxes are nothing compared to your overwhelming self-pity!"

"Spoken like an expert on the subject!" the boy spat. "You're a fine one to talk."

Snape caught his arm when he would have left. "I swore to Dumbledore that I would preserve your life, regardless of my feelings about its value." Both he and Potter knew his feelings on that score. "And if it comes down to preserving your pathetic existence and abiding by your wishes, I _will_ choose the former."

"As if you really care about me or my friends!" Potter shot back. "D'you think you're somehow making up for what you did by helping me? Wake up, Snape; you're not fooling anyone! You're a bloody selfish murdering bastard and you'll always be, no matter how much you talk about _following orders_!"

"SHUT UP!" Severus roared.

"AND you know it!"

Severus swung at the boy as hard as he could. Potter ducked and smashed his fist into Snape's gut, winding him, but Severus grabbed Potter's arm and yanked him down with him, adding a hard clout to the face for good measure. He managed to knock the weaker wizard off him and onto his back, then leaned over him and punched the vicious little brat in the face as hard as he could.

Potter threw a handful of dirt into his face, scrambled to his feet as Severus rolled away, cursing and trying to clear his eyes, then kicked him in the ribs for good measure before staggering away.

"Stay the hell away from me, Snape. If you contact the Order, I'll be gone, and even a spy as good as you won't be able to find me!" Severus might have managed to catch him if Potter hadn't thrown an _Incendio_ into the garden, forcing the Potions Master to turn his attention to that while the younger wizard made his escape.

Severus didn't see him again for almost a day, but Hattie found him long enough to assure Severus that the boy was well, so he left it. He was concerned when the Muggle newspaper reported the local authorities in the area trying to deal with an infestation of nesting snakes, but Potter had returned to the house by then, and Severus supposed that the boy, being a Parseltongue, would probably not have to worry about being bitten.

* * *

Severus had entertained the hope that if he could manage to contact the Order, Potter's friends would persuade the stupid boy to return to England to seek better treatment than what Snape could provide in exile. But the fight in the garden had made it quite clear that Potter would avoid seeing anything of the Order again, even if it mean the loss of his magic and the continuing deterioration of his health.

He avoided Severus more than ever, which would have been agreeable to Severus but for the niggling little concern that Potter's welfare was not improving out here. Nor was his behavior suggestive of mental stability. The boy had risked and sacrificed a good deal for the sake of others, so why was he now suddenly so unwilling to face the gratitude of those he had saved? This was certainly not consistent with the wizarding world's insipid little darling Severus had known at Hogwarts. No, that Harry Potter would smile bravely, bat his eyes and blush at the cameras, and insist so humbly that he didn't deserve all the accolades—even as he accepted them.

Following Potter's own half-suggestion, Severus drew on his considerable experience as a spy to keep closer tabs on the boy. For the most part, his activities were uninteresting…he wandered the shores of the Lake a great deal, and occasionally experimented with magic on the rocks, but nothing alarming. If the boy had been tempted to try anymore dangerous spells, his magical and physical weakness was an effective barrier to that.

Seldom did his wanderings take him anywhere near Muggles, but on the occasion they did, Potter's lip would curl in a way vaguely familiar to Severus, and he would promptly turn back and head in the opposite direction, never making any effort to contact them. Severus rather felt the same way about Muggles, but…it wasn't like Potter to be quite so repulsed by them…was it? He wished he'd known more about the boy's relationship with the Muggles who had raised him, and the other Muggle children he had undoubtedly grown up with.

He vaguely recalled Albus having said that Potter's home life was not a happy one—he'd dismissed it at the time as teenaged whining, but…would that account for the boy's bitterness and hostility now? Or was it his failing health?

That alone was worrying Severus more and more; Potter's health was growing worse. His wanderings, which had seemed to improve his mood and his magic from long exposure to clear air and peace, began to lessen, and then stopped altogether; Potter no longer went beyond sight of the cottage or the shoreline just below it. He spent hours sitting on the cliff overlooking the water, not moving a muscle. Severus even saw him talking to a snake once or twice.

Once it became clear that further examinations would be necessary, Severus confronted Potter and alternately bullied and harassed him into sitting still in the lab for it. "Perhaps if you were a little more forthcoming, I would have more to go on," he said as he performed another Diagnostic Spell.

"I've told you everything I remember," Potter said crossly, swinging his legs as he sat on one of the tables. "There wasn't time to think; I just used any spell I could think of to blast the things."

"All the same, I need more detail. Where were you when you destroyed Hufflepuff's Cup?" Severus asked, undaunted by the carping.

Potter sighed heavily. "Little Hangleton cemetery. It was in the old Riddle House. I broke in through the wards—I suppose you're the reason no alarm sounded." Severus didn't deny it. "Stole the thing and just ran. I melted it in the cemetery before I apparated out."

"And you left it there?" Potter nodded. Severus frowned at him. "What if destroying it had not destroyed the soul fragment?"

"It did," said Potter in a tone of finality. "Believe me, all right? It did."

Severus eyed the boy for several moments, and finally decided to accept this. "What did you feel?"

"Before I apparated? Something…in my scar. And in my chest. Pressure, and pulling. Back and forth. It was weird," Potter's eyes were slightly unfocused, lost in memory. "And then it was like a snap, and the cup melted. I knew it was done."

"How soon did you feel the effect of the curses?"

"I couldn't breathe right away. Apparated out in case Death Eaters came, to the Burrow. I remember hearing Mrs. Weasley say my lips were blue, but I blacked out." Potter's voice was so impersonal he might have been discussing the weather. "They sent for Madam Pomfrey. I woke up two days later. Felt really weak for days, but I had to keep going after the other ones."

"And next was Rowena Ravenclaw's mirror?" Severus prompted.

Harry nodded. "I used a Solid Shield between me and it when I hit it—that was in the old orphanage site where Riddle grew up. I felt the curse hitting it…I think it was another burning curse of some kind like the one that got D…the one that got Dumbledore." He scowled. "You'd think he'd have used a Shield too."

"He did," Severus snapped, annoyed. "How long did it take your Shield to fail?"

"About two minutes. I didn't see any other curses, but I figure there may have been something. Or maybe that one didn't curse me."

The rest of the story was essentially the same. Severus could think of a variety of curses that the Dark Lord _might _have imprinted onto his Horcruxes, but nothing that would cause these particular symptoms in Potter. Lord Voldemort had a flair for the dramatic…he'd have wanted Potter to suffer more than the simple slow deterioration in the face of weakness and crushing fatigue. Something did not add up.

For starters, the numbers.

"So Hufflepuff's Cup, Gaunt's locket, Ravenclaw's mirror, the ring, the diary…that is only five. What was the sixth?" His patient hesitated. "Potter?"

Wearily, the boy sighed. "And this is where you finally get it through your thick head what I've been trying to explain all along. Why there's no point in contacting anyone or sending me back to the Order." He met Snape's gaze, with an expression that startled the former professor greatly. His eyes, weary, dull, and defeated, regarding Snape beneath the lightning bolt scar…

The scar…

"It was you," Severus said softly. "_You_ were the sixth Horcrux." Potter dropped his eyes and nodded. "That was the nature of your scar, your visions. Your connection to him. The night he attempted to kill you…"

"I dunno how I realized that was it," Harry sighed, closing his eyes. "But when I did, I…knew what I had to do."

"How did you survive?" Severus asked.

"Self-exorcism, if you can believe it." There was a flicker of pride at last in Potter's face as he looked up at Snape again. Severus had to admit he was impressed; any sort of expulsion of outside influence from a human soul was difficult and dangerous. Self-exoricisms were almost never attempted in recorded history.

"It worked, I take it?"

"Well enough. Got the Horcrux out."

"What did you use as your expelling agent?"

Potter snorted. "You won't understand."

"Try me."

"Love. My _friends,_ as you like to put it. Voldemort doesn't have friends; he can't. That emotion would confine the fragment and push it out."

Severus pondered this. That the attempt had succeeded was self-evident: the Dark Lord was dead. But it was extraordinary enough that Potter had not managed to kill himself in the process. It was all too likely that his own magic and body had suffered a serious injury. Whether he would ever recover remained to be seen.

"And this is the reason you have cut yourself off from the Order?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "What do you suggest? 'Oh, hey, guys, by the way, I've been walking around with a chunk of Voldemort's soul inside me all this time!' It'd get out. Rita bloody Skeeter or someone would find out. Especially when they realized I was…sick. How long till they turned on me?"

The bitterness in the boy's voice was sharp. Severus could not deny the truth of his words. The wizarding public was fickle; all it would take was the wrong statement in the press for them to be screaming for Potter's head. They wanted a hero, a savior. Not an emotionally damaged young man with permanently injured powers.

"So you are resolved to simply give up?"

"I just want to be left alone!" Potter said, jumping off the table furiously. "Why's that so hard to understand—you wanted it!"

"There is no one back in England who will welcome my return," Severus pointed out.

Potter's mouth twisted into a vindictive sneer. "Good point."

**_To be continued…_**

**_Coming Soon: _**_Severus__ continues in his quest to find the curse that has laid Harry low. Harry's strength continues to deteriorate, and other signs suggest that the curse upon him may have deeper and deadlier repercussions than anyone imagined in Chapter Three: Scar!_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**


	3. Scar

**_A/N:_**_ So sorry about the wait, dear readers, I had a beast of a time getting this chapter to come together amid my law school stressors! Thank you all so much for your patience and for all the wonderful reviews! PLEASE keep them coming! They keep me going! Here at last, I give you what I hope will be a suitably creepy chapter for your Halloween-reading pleasure! A safe and happy holiday to you all!_

**Chapter Three: Scar**

Severus opened the laboratory window and peered out at the small figure seated unmoving near the cliff. Potter no longer left the immediate vicinity of the house at all. Sometimes he did not go outside, which alarmed Severus nearly as much as the boy's increasing passivity. He no longer argued or fought when Severus hauled him into the lab for more examinations, though he still made caustic remarks.

Frustrated, Severus had taken himself to walking the shoreline and the woods. He needed the quiet solitude to think. He could isolate no cause of the boy's waning strength. Not that Potter was any help in his investigations, but knowing the Dark Lord's methods, it was entirely possible that the boy truly had no idea what had happened to him.

_And that could mean the end of him, _Severus thought sourly.

Movement outside caught his eye, and he froze at the sight of a very large snake winding its way toward Potter. Not daring to call out, Snape grabbed his wand and bolted for the door.

He rushed outside only to find Potter in what could only be described as conversation with the serpent. Severus could hear them hissing back and forth in Parseltongue as he stood watching in wary fascination…until the snake noticed him.

The creature reared up, flattened its back, and hissed harshly, and Potter looked over his shoulder and smirked, hissing back. Recovering his voice, Severus demanded, "Potter, what the hell are you doing?"

"Having a little chat with a friend, what does it look like?" Potter said blithely.

"It 'looks like' many things, but yours is not the description I would choose," Snape muttered. Potter smirked and hissed something to the snake. It seemed to relax, no longer facing the Severus aggressively and returning its attention to the boy. "What are you telling it?"

"What you said. Only polite."

"Polite?" Severus asked doubtfully.

The snake hissed something at Potter and glided towards Severus. It took all his self control not to retreat. Evidently, Potter noticed, because he grinned. "He wants to know if you're a threat to me."

Determined to keep his voice steady as he met the serpent's cold black eyes, Severus retorted, "Then tell him I'm not."

"I did. He's wondering why." Severus blinked. Potter stretched lazily and watched the snake gliding around the older wizard. "I told him you're trying to make up for being evil. But he doesn't understand."

"What?" Severus glared at Potter. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The boy sneered at him. "Snakes don't understand things like 'forgiveness' or 'atonement.' He can't understand why you'd help me if you didn't get something out of it. Good point, really. Snakes are pretty smart."

Severus felt his skin crawling in time with the soft sound of the reptile's scales over the ground. "I rather wonder why I help you myself," he snarled, and stalked back into the house.

Potter laughed as he went.

* * *

_"I was beginning to think you would never rejoin our ranks, Lucius."_

_"Forgive me, my lord. I escaped Azkaban and returned as soon as I could."_

_"Perhaps you did. And yet you did not bring me my prize."_

_"…prize, Master?"_

_"The prophecy, Lucius. The objective I sent you for over a year ago. You do recall?"_

_"I…yes, but…I was told the prophecy had been destroyed."_

_"So it has. Do you think your time in Azkaban will reprieve you from a punishment from me?"_

_"Er…no…"_

_"My lord, please—"_

_"Quiet, Narcissa. Step forward and give me your wand, Lucius."_

_"Oh god…"_

_"Cissy, shh!"_

_"I suggest you take your sister's advice, Narcissa."_

_"Y-yes, my…my lord, please, let my son leave before you…punish Lucius."_

_"No, my dear, Draco must stay. He will come and face his father."_

_"But—"_

_"Cissy!"_

_"Mum, it's okay!"_

_"Very good, Draco. Now look at your son, Lucius, and tell him what you have done."_

_"I failed our master."_

_"And what does it mean, to fail me?"_

_"I must face my punishment."_

_"Well said, and calmly too. Your overemotional wife should follow your lead, but I will grant you one reprieve. I will not force Draco to watch your punishment."_

_"Thank you, Master. I ask no mercy for myself."_

_"I…"_

_"Do as our lord says, Draco."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Very good, young Draco. Now close your eyes."_

_"My eyes?"_

_"It will ease your parents' minds, I think. Narcissa, you may turn away as well. If you have anything terribly pressing to say to your father, Draco, I suggest you do so now."_

_"Dad!"_

_"It's all right. This is the consequence of failing the Dark Lord, and I must face it. It is my own failing."_

_"But…"_

_"Look after your mother."_

_"…yes, sir."_

_"There now, Draco, do not be so despondent. It will not be as hard as you think. Now close your eyes. But stay here. I will allow your father to see you before his punishment. Lucius?"_

_"I am…ready, my lord."_

_"Good. _Avada Kedavra._"_

* * *

For several moments, there had been silence. Even Bella, for once, had been shocked. Severus had not drawn a breath after the body of the Dark Lord's victim fell. Then Narcissa had opened her eyes and seen Draco dead on the ground as his father stared at him in disbelief.

The boy's mother's scream still rang in Snape's ears at night. Lucius hadn't moved, his eyes locked on his only child's body. Severus too had been too stunned to think even as Bella had attempted to restrain the grief-crazed Narcissa. When she broke away, everyone expected her to go to Draco, so it had surprised even the Dark Lord when the woman had lunged at him instead, her wand brandished like a dagger.

Only then had Lucius broken out of his trance and tried to stop her, but it was too late.

A flash from the Dark Lord's wand had thrown her off, and when she struck the ground, Severus knew she was finished. She had coughed, a trickle of blood from her mouth, and turned away from her husband and their master, crawling determinedly to her son's body with a look of relief on her face. She only managed to get far enough to put a hand on Draco before she collapsed on his draped robes and breathed her last.

The Dark Lord had ordered Lucius to stay where he was when he would have gone to them. All the Death Eaters had stood solemnly in a ring around golden hair spread over black robes. The Dark Lord had then ordered Lucius to walk away and leave the bodies of his wife and son where they were. Bella and Severus had had to beg their master's permission two hours later to bury Draco and Narcissa.

Severus often wondered if Bellatrix Black had ever been capable of loving anything. She hadn't shed a tear for her sister or nephew, though she'd seemed fond of them when they were alive. She'd ranted the whole time she and Severus had worked over her sister's stupidity in attacking the Dark Lord. Snape supposed it was as close to grief as Bella would ever get. No tears had been shed for her among the Death Eaters when she met her end at the hands of an Auror six months later.

In a greater twist of irony, Severus learned that the Auror, none other than Nymphadora Tonks, had in fact wept, not for the woman she had killed but for the fact that it was her mother's sister. Andromeda had probably been completely understanding, but Tonks had been sickened by the act and what it represented, if not the actual loss of the recipient. She hadn't been morphed at the time, but Bella hadn't recognized her until seconds before her niece delivered a curse that threw Bella into a wall and broke her neck.

Severus had always privately agreed with Bella that Narcissa's open and unswerving devotion to Draco would be the death of her. The Dark Lord tolerated none of the servants placing anything ahead of his own goals—especially not love. Narcissa had been of use to him only because Lucius was, and likewise Draco. The boy had been too innocent for the Dark Lord's work; everyone knew it. When Lucius failed their master, his family lost their usefulness. No one survived long once the Dark Lord deemed them expendable.

And as a result, Severus had known even before their next mission that Lucius would not come back alive. The man's bloodline had been his pride, as with all old pureblood families. Whether he actually mourned his wife and son themselves was anyone's guess, but…Severus was of the opinion that he had, deeply. Ironically, others would consider him sentimental for believing it.

Lucius had thrown himself into the next battle with Aurors without regard for his own safety, and refused to fall back when Severus had called a retreat. Aurors had soon surrounded him as Severus and the others looked on, intent on taking him alive, but Lucius had been equally intent on ending himself. Finally, under the pretense that they could not afford him being questioned, Severus had thrown a Killing Curse that hit Lucius right in the chest, leaving his body to the Aurors. The Dark Lord had agreed when Severus had made his report of the incident, and commended Severus for not letting his friendship with Lucius interfere with his duty to his master.

It had not been Snape's imagination: in the green light of the curse striking his heart, Lucius had looked grateful.

All men save the Dark Lord had their weaknesses. Though a dark and often-cruel man, Lucius had still been a man. Only a Legilimens, a powerful one, would ever have known where his weakness lay. Or someone who understood what it was to have such a weakness as love.

Only a master Occlumens had a prayer of keeping the Dark Lord from discovering his weaknesses. The Dark Lord, ever overconfident on his own abilities, had presumed that Severus had none. Or if he had thought Severus might be hiding some weakness, he would never have guessed correctly what it was.

_Albus__…I tried._

It had been easy enough to convince the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters that he hated Dumbledore. In some ways—no, many ways—he had. And yet even as Albus had used him, manipulated, pushed, pulled, cajoled, and bullied him…he had saved him. And he had trusted him. And for reasons unfathomable to Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater, or anybody else, Albus Dumbledore had cared for him.

Severus had never refused any request from him. Nor, according to Albus, had Severus ever failed him.

Technically-speaking, he had carried out Dumbledore's last order…he had fulfilled the Vow to Narcissa and kept Draco from becoming a murderer, and himself in the Dark Lord's good graces. But Severus had never been as quick to forgive or excuse as Albus (infuriatingly) was—toward anyone, including himself. _Would you have been so willing to pet and assure me of my value if you had seen me stand by and watch Draco and his mother die?_

Probably. Damn the man.

Make no mistake; it was for Albus that Severus put up with Potter's worsening behavior even as he tried to preserve the boy's worsening health. Severus caught him several days in a row in the library perusing books that he had no business reading—extremely dark magic, all of them—but the boy was no longer strong enough even to go outside without assistance. So he entertained himself by Snape-baiting. Severus suspected that Potter had pulled those books off the shelves just to alarm him, but rather than take any chances, he removed the most dangerous volumes to his rooms and locked them up.

So Potter switched to casually passing Snape in the halls of the house several times a day, taking every opportunity to let slip a sly remark. Probing for weaknesses. Good thing Potter wasn't a Legilimens.

Severus was thoroughly convinced that it was sheer self-pity motivating the boy's new hobby of Bothering Snape as often as possible. Were it not for his promise to Albus, Severus would have left him to waste away and rot.

Potter knew it too.

"Did Dumbledore leave you a note or something for after you killed him?" the boy asked one day while Severus was trying to use a modified Dark Detection Charm on him.

Snape shot him a withering look. "How precisely would he have done that?"

Potter shrugged. "Good point. I just figured, with everything you did for him and all the connections and secret ways of communicating he had, he'd've found _some _way to thank you. Since you were, you know, so _valuable._"

"Potter, if you wish to be rid of your illness, shut up and let me work."

Of course, he didn't. "Did he _ever_ thank you? Why the hell did you do all those things for him if not for some kind of reward?"

Snape met the boy's mocking gaze and replied in a sarcastic drawl, "Because it was the _right_ thing to do."

Potter laughed out loud. "Not because you wanted that bloody Order of Merlin, then? I guess killing the only person in the wizarding world who'd ever have got you one kind of put an end to that dream, didn't it? Nobody _really_ trusted you except on his word—I saw that clear enough. Once he was gone, that was it. The only person who was ever _kind_ to you…"

"Shut…up."

"Even your parents didn't like you, did they?"

Severus slapped him. Hard. "If you ever wish to recover your strength, boy, shut your mouth and let me work."

"Like you're really going to find anything."

"If only to enjoy your discomfiture when you can finally no longer deny that I have saved your life, yes, I will find the cause." It gratified Severus to see Potter blanch.

"So you'll use a wizard's debt to get out of your promise to Dumbledore, then?"

"Killing him was a far more difficult order to follow than anything pertaining to _you,_" Severus retorted without thinking. Then he saw Potter's face and realized what he'd said. Before he could muster a qualification to that statement, something tugged his senses. "Wait…"

"Hah! Too late to change the subject!" Potter crowed. "Poor old Snape—Dumbledore really _was _the only stupid bugger to ever give a damn about you; it actually made you _sad _to kill him! Not that it really must have mattered much of him to be leaving poor lonely old Snape all alone!"

"QUIET, Potter!" Severus bellowed, trying to focus on what might have triggered his Detection Charm and not on the words needling their way into his mind.

"Or was it just the Order of Merlin after all? No, I remember what you said that night, not wanting me to call you a coward! You really did feel bad, didn't you, losing the only person who didn't think you're a worthless, greasy git! Pathetic, really—"

"Shut UP!" Severus hit him so hard that it knocked him unconscious, which had the effect of shutting his bloody mouth, but also cut off the Charm. "Damn."

Severus left Potter lying there on the table on stalked away.

* * *

Harry was glad at first that he'd finally managed to put Snape off this stupid crusade, since it would spare him having to pay a wizard's debt to the bastard. If only his stupid body would last long enough, he was sure he could find a cure on his own for what ailed him—just not in a way that Snape would approve of. Odd, that. You'd think Snape of all people would not object to using dark magic if it were a matter of life or death—lord knew Snape had done enough dark deeds to save his own skin, "Dumbledore's orders" or not!

The local snakes and Harry's own senses told him that Agawa Bay was strong in Earth magic. The ancient natives who'd lived there had imprinted their own magic on the place as well; Harry could feel it, in the Lake, in every stone of the mountains, and the living things. It grew stronger with age, a resource right there to be tapped. Even the Muggles who'd tramped through the place on their tourist camping trips hadn't diminished its power. It all was wild with Earth magic and ancient magic, and if Harry could tap it…no curse would stand a chance. Nor could any other wizard who tried to get in Harry's way.

But he had no interest in cluing Snape in on his plan. The ex-professor would undoubtedly ask uncomfortable questions and possibly inform the Order. Harry had no interest in their sanctimonious lectures and fussing over him either. He was a pet to them. They would never regard him as they had Dumbledore: a leader. He might be younger, but he was more powerful than all of them put together. The more he recalled their attitudes toward him in the last few years, the more it enraged him.

If he had done what Snape wanted, gone back to them…_They might have sung my praises and given me the Order of Merlin, but they would really respect me. To them, I've always been just a boy, a boy who gets lucky. I'll get what I'm due from them, one day._

As boring as it was to be unable to move around much, Harry found that bothering Snape could be at least a reasonably entertaining pastime. It provided something of a challenge, seeing how many veiled insults could be delivered, and how subtle they could be for him to still catch them, before the man snapped and took a swing at him. The only downside was that Harry's reflexes were not as good as they could have been, so he sometimes didn't manage to dodge a blow. Well, that was a challenge in its own right.

And it was more than worth it, the first time Harry stole after Snape when the man had stormed from the room, and heard a glass slapping violently onto the kitchen counter and the clink of a firewhiskey decanter. He was positively gleeful to realize he had driven Severus Snape to drink.

* * *

Severus was well into the bottle of firewhiskey before his thoughts wandered to the subject of cursing Dumbledore for this miserable existence he'd been left with. _It was so easy for you, Albus, to bow out. So secure in your faith that your precious Harry and I would be able to work together to end the war. I somehow doubt this was what you had in mind._

He had made no headway in determining what ailed the boy, and now he was losing the will to try. Even as Potter's cutting remarks enraged him, Severus had enough rationality to suspect that the boy's mental health was unraveling along with the physical. That would explain the loss of interest in all the things Harry Potter had so famously held dear—such as his friends—and the fact that his personality, and the amusement he derived from cruelty to Snape and even Hattie, was beginning to bear more than a passing resemblance to the late Dark Lord's taste in entertainment. Perhaps only wizards as powerful as Potter or the Dark Lord were capable of being amused by such behavior.

Then again, such things had amused Severus once. In some ways, he was starting to wish they still did. It would get him out of this mess if he could lose that conscience he'd developed under Dumbledore's tutelage.

No, Albus had known better than to risk that happening. Aware of the debt that had driven Severus back to the side of right, Dumbledore had taken great pains to forge a similar, even stronger debt owed by Severus to him, one that could never be repaid in Snape's lifetime.

_Damn you, Albus._

Had he really believed that Severus would always be grateful to him? Surely any man with sense would have realized that the one bound by an unbreakable debt would one day come to damn their benefactor for it. As Severus had.

As he fell into a whiskey-induced slumber, it was indeed a curse to Dumbledore upon his lips. Not Harry Potter.

_"It will turn out better than you fear, Severus. I promise you that."_

_"So easy for you to say when you won't be around to see the end! You take too much for granted, Albus!"_

_"Severus, enough! You've agreed to do it!"_

_"Yes, but…"_

_"I have charged you with this because you are the only one who I trust enough. Now trust _me._ Please. My faith in you and in Harry is not misplaced."_

_"Harry Potter is sixteen. You are prepared to die to prevent Draco Malfoy from losing his innocence by murdering you at this age—how do you expect Potter to find it in himself to kill the Dark Lord?"_

_"With your help, Severus. With your help."_

_"How in god's name am I supposed to help him after killing you? If the boy's hot to kill anyone after your death, it will be me! And I cannot say I would blame him!"_

_"Really—"_

_"And has it occurred to you that I don't KNOW how to help Potter? Let alone persuade him to trust me without blowing my cover."_

_"You have wonderful instincts, my boy. Stronger than mine. Trust yourself. You and Harry are very alike in that respect; you both see with more than your eyes. I believe Harry will recognize what you've done, when the time is right. And he will know to trust you."_

_"The boy hates me, and it's mutual. He'll want me dead after you're gone."_

_"He'll find it easier to forgive you if you'll find it in yourself to forgive him, Severus."_

_"Forgive him for what?"_

_"For being who he is, of course. For having the fame and recognition as a hero that you undoubtedly deserve for your deeds on our side, but have never received. For being the 'chosen one,' am I right?"_

_"The reasons don't matter."_

_"But the ones I've named aren't the only ones, are they? I may be a silly old man, but I am not completely blind, Severus. I am well aware of the reasons why you are so determined to hate Harry."_

_"And yet you trust me."_

_"Yes. Because I believe one day you'll find peace for yourself by forgiving him."_

_"As touching as your faith is, I wonder that you're willing to stake the future of the wizarding world on it."_

_"Ever the melodramatic one."_

_"Albus—"_

_"Enough. We can stand out here in the dark and argue all night, but I doubt if either of us shall budge from our beliefs. In any case, it's too cold for my old bones anymore. We should return to the castle."_

_"Yes, Headmaster."_

_"Don't sulk, Severus, it's unbecoming. And remember what I said about your instincts. Trust them. They won't lead you astray."_

_"If you say so."_

* * *

Severus awoke, his head buzzing and foggy from the whiskey, his tongue thick as he tried to curse Dumbledore once again for refusing to leave him alone even in his dreams. He had no wish to go back to sleep and face the old man in his memories again, so he stormed out of the cottage into the dawn chill. Potter, thank god for small mercies, was asleep in his room.

It began as only a walk to clear his head, but the fog and cool air helped return his usual Potions Master instincts, and he found himself examining the magical plants and fungi that populated the woods as he wandered down the mountainside. Unlike Potter, who kept close to the waterline, Severus preferred to remain within the trees, both because it made him feel less exposed and because the best Potions ingredients were to be found there.

Most of the usual growths he had already found on previous foraging excursions, and the mistletoe growths, while full and healthy, were not in the proper season to have attained their full magical properties yet. Still, it was a soothing exercise to spot the various plants familiar to him and to ponder their Potions potential.

The most interesting find of the trip was a growth of Brown Leechvine that had anchored itself in a knothole on a large oak tree. The vine was too young yet to be of any use, but Severus could tell that the oak tree's chances of surviving were already slim. Leechvines had tiny seeds covering nearly ever inch of themselves, and even if the vine were burned and chopped away, a single shred of the pernicious plant against the body of any other plant could lead to the seed taking root in that new host's flesh, and the vine would suck nutrients and water from the host until it died. They were devilish hard to deal with if they got into one's greenhouse, because the safest course of action was to simply remove all nearby plants and to let the infected one die, rather than attempt to kill the Leechvine and risk infecting the rest of one's stock. The irony was that the seeds would not be fertilized until the parent vine died.

Fortunately, this one was far enough from Snape's own Potions garden to be a risk to his plants. The oak tree was large and strong, but he suspected it would succumb to the fast-growing vine within six months—barely a breath of life, by tree standards. Severus knew the various methods of removing a Leechvine infestation, but it was an arduous task, and the life of every plant in the area would be at risk once the main vine shed its seeds. Even the smallest crack in bark or a scar upon the skin of a healthy plant was enough for the seed to take hold and suck the life from the host's flesh even as the host plant still appeared normal.

_As opportunistic as your average dark wizard_, Severus thought. There were ways to catch the signs of an infestation and kill it before the host plant perished, but the signs were seldom visible to the naked eye. _As so few signs of corruption are. Danger stirs all around us and grows stronger even as we deny its existence, just as Fudge's Ministry denied the Dark Lord's return even when the Dark Mark was black on my arm before them._

He looked wearily down at that arm now. The Dark Lord's death had not erased the Mark's outline from his former servant's flesh. It was paler now than even after the end of the first war, but it had not completely gone. All the more proof of Snape's irredeemability, it would seem. The Mark taken willingly would never be gone. Then again, even Potter's scar was still there.

Perhaps the Dark Lord's imprint simply would never be gone from the world, and haunt the minds and the flesh of servant and victim alike until the end of their days.

What other explanation was there?

* * *

Returning to the cottage after the sun rose, Severus wearily took up the task of researching Harry Bloody Potter again. The boy was still heavily asleep, and when Severus glanced into his room, he didn't so much as stir. Still deteriorating. Frustrated and starting to despair, Severus changed tacks from examining the boy's body and his magic and began mentally retracing Potter's actions since the war had ended. Fortunately, Potter's choice to join Severus in self-imposed exile made it simple enough to reconstruct his movements.

Could any of the magic Potter had been dabbling with have accelerated a curse's effects? With Hattie's help, Severus collected all the books Potter had read from the library, and while quite a few had spells that might indeed have had a harmful impact, Potter's symptoms were still inconsistent. Besides, he couldn't see Potter wholeheartedly fooling with dark magic, beyond the childish game of being caught with the dark volumes just to irritate Severus.

Recalling the one spell that had thrown the boy into magical shock, Severus pulled out the book and flipped to the section on old Earth magic, to the _Vis__ Vires _spell. Potter hadn't been that sick yet when he'd tried it, yet it seemed strange that so mild a spell would have had so severe an impact.

Rubbing his temples, Severus ordered Hattie to bring him some breakfast and mulled over the page again. Nothing about Harry Potter ever made any bloody sense. The spell on the opposite page was also Earth magic, and a power enhancer that could have hurt Potter in that fashion if he'd tried it in his condition, but it was dark, far too dark for someone like Potter to even consider attempting. And surely Severus would have felt it if Potter had tried to invoke _Adficio_ in the near vicinity—well, then again, maybe not, since its primary impact would have been on those who had no strong magic, like Muggles, who would probably not even miss their limited amount of magical energy after it was sapped from them.

Hmph. _Adficio_ was the sort of spell the Dark Lord would have liked…

Severus froze with a cup of tea halfway to his mouth.

_Wait a minute…_

_"Trust your instincts, Severus…_"

He had to think…but facts and pieces of memory were slowly drifting into clarity in his mind.

_Adficio__…an old Earth magic power enhancer to draw magical energy from the weak…but risky for a weak caster to attempt alone…_

_Dark spells…Potter's taunting…the disinterest in the welfare of his friends…_

_The self-exorcism…possibly the most difficult and dangerous spell in existence…the odds of surviving after a _successful_ attempt were slim…_

_But what are the odds of surviving an unsuccessful attempt?_

_The Horcrux…the Dark Lord dead…so the self-exorcism must at least have been partially successful, enough to prevent the soul fragment from sustaining the Dark Lord himself…_

_Dark spells…the sudden interest in Dark Power…the changes in Potter's very nature…the Horcrux, possibly not completely destroyed…_

_Oh buggeration._

_The Leechvine. The seed of a Leechvine deep within a healthy plant, feeding…draining…_

_"Trust your instincts, Severus…"_

He sat still at his laboratory desk for a very long time, then slowly walked back up the stairs and down the hall to Potter's room, where the boy still slept. So still, so peaceful-looking, so innocent…who would ever begin to imagine…

Light from the curtains just illuminated Harry Potter's face enough so that Severus could see the scar, still etched into his forehead, a reminder of the wound so many years ago that that had given a fragment of the Dark Lord's soul a place to embed itself.

A place to take root…

The host had died. Could a fragment of a Horcrux survive without the host?

_Why not?_ If a soul could be split to create a Horcrux, why couldn't a Horcrux be fragmented still more? Pieces not large or strong enough to sustain the life of the former owner of the soul, but rather…

_Like seeds. Taking root in a new soul, feeding off of it, draining the life away from the host and adding strength to the evil that first created them…_

For the first time, Severus stared at the face of Harry Potter without rage. He had seen horrors in his lifetime that, as Albus had oft pointed out, would cause the bravest Auror to quail with terror, yet for the first time, he looked upon the sight before him and shivered. The weight of a promise and an unpayable debt was upon his shoulders, now pulling in two directions—the promise to do all in his power to destroy the Dark Lord's evil forever…and also that promise to protect the life of Harry Potter, who Albus had loved so much more than Severus (for which Severus had always hated him.)

"Albus…I don't know what to do."

**_To be continued…_**

_**Coming Soon: **The Dark Lord Voldemort is dead, but _something_ has survived, and Severus knows it lives inside Harry Potter. How can he honor his promise to Albus to protect Harry, and at the same time carry out his duty to destroy Voldemort's scourge from the world forever? Can he remove the cancer of evil that is taking over Harry's soul? Or will the price of the wizarding world's freedom be Harry's death? Find out in Chapter Four: Remnant!_

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! **


	4. Remnant

**_A/N:_** _Thanks to some time off over Thanksgiving AND the muse-inspiring influence of the Goblet of Fire movie, I present chapter four for your reading pleasure. Thank you to all my readers for your patience. I'm trying to keep a decent pace with updates, but I owe my "Curse of the White Sword" readers an update as well, and, well…I have to do schoolwork sometime! As always, many thanks for the reviews, and keep 'em coming!_

**_PS:_** _This is my first time attempting to write Evil!Harry. Hope you like._

**_FYI:_** _For those who were wondering, the Muggle campers in Chapter Two were Americans, stereotypical "rednecks." That was actually a near-verbatim repeat of a real conversation that my parents overheard while on a camping trip before I was born—and those obnoxious characters kept them awake at night as well! ;-)_

**Chapter Four: Remnant**

Harry woke late, much to his irritation. It was getting harder and harder to wake up these days. He got himself dressed and wandered down to the kitchen. Hattie's cheerful voice grated on him even more than usual. "Good morning, young Master Harry! Would young Master care for some breakfast?"

Harry accepted the bowl of fruit she put in front of him, then dismissed her with a flick of his hand and an accompanying wandless hex. Snape entered the room as Hattie scurried out, yelping in pain. Harry smirked at him, daring him to chastise him, but Snape merely remarked, "I would hardly call harassing the house elf conserving your power."

"She was annoying me," Harry replied. "You'd do the same to me if you thought you could get away with it."

To his surprise (and some disappointment), Snape half-smiled. "I don't deny it. Carry on then, but kindly don't prevent her from being able to do her duties unless you are prepared to take over feeding us."

"Pfft. Good point," Harry said. Something in the way Snape glanced at him over his teacup made him pause. "What?"

"Is there anything you would like to share with me, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked quietly, in a calm tone that made Harry stare at him.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Anything particular in mind?"

"What spell were you trying to do on the cliff the day you collapsed?"

"I told you!" Harry protested. "_Vis_ _Vires_. I didn't think it would hurt me."

"Nor did I. But your reaction to the spell was very severe, so if that was not what you were doing, now is the time to confess it."

Harry shoved his half-eaten breakfast away. "Well, it was. Sorry to disappoint you."

Snape stared at him for several long moments, making him wonder if the older wizard was trying to Legilimize him. But at last, Snape lowered his eyes. "If that is the case…then I am afraid your condition is extremely serious."

His tone was so solemn that Harry was taken aback. "Yes?"

"For _Vis_ _Vires_ to have put you into shock…I believe your condition is life-threatening."

Harry's mouth was dry. Snape sounded so serious that for a moment he almost blurted out that he hadn't used _Vis_ _Vires_ after all. But to explain further would invite dangerous questions. And if Snape's only evidence that Harry was dying was his reaction to _Vis_ _Vires_, then there wasn't anything to worry about. So he relaxed and said, "Well, then I'm done for. You can't be that sorry."

"I made an oath to Dumbledore, Potter. An oath to protect your life. We must return to Hogwarts!"

"_No!_" Harry shouted, leaping to his feet. "I'm not going back there, even if my life _does_ depend on it!" He stalked out the front door, but Snape followed him into the garden.

"Your life may _well_ depend on it, Potter! You cannot be that determined to die!"

Harry snorted and paused. "You don't know what you're talking about." He turned around—and froze at the sight of Snape's wand pointed at him."

"I know more than you think. _Stupefy._"

* * *

Potter had no time to do more than throw up a hand in surprise before Snape's Stunner dropped him. Severus lowered his wand with a sigh; at least the boy didn't appear to have been feigning his weakness. If he'd been at full strength, a duel might have resulted. Nor was it Snape's imagination—now that he was on the alert for it, he was certain he had seen a glint of red in the boy's eyes. Like the Dark Lord, only…not.

Severus turned him over and fed him a Potion that would keep him unconscious for hours. "No more games, Potter," he muttered aloud. "You're going home whether you like it or not."

He was hovering the boy up when a menacing hiss made him jump. Letting his charge fall to the ground, he discovered a small horde of serpents emerging from the undergrowth. No doubt they had seen Snape's act of aggression toward their new friend, and Severus rather doubted he would be able to persuade them of his honorable intentions.

"Master Severus!" Hattie shrieked from the doorway.

"Inside!" Severus shouted at her, and seized Potter, throwing the boy unceremoniously over his shoulder. "We are returning to Hogwarts!" The snakes were closing in on him from every direction, so he didn't wait for the elf's response before Disapparating.

He arrived on the edge of the Hogwarts grounds without splinching himself or Potter, to his immense relief, though the intercontinental trip did require several moments' recovery before he could consider what to do next.

_Trust your instincts, Severus._

Well, all his instincts had been to return to Hogwarts and the Order, and now here he was. All the same, he was not looking forward to this reunion.

Once he had caught his breath and made certain Potter was in no danger of waking before he was secured, Severus hauled the boy back over his shoulder and began the walk across the grounds. It struck him in a rush of irony as they passed Hagrid's hut that this was the very spot where he had fought Potter nearly two years ago after…he shook his head and kept walking.

"Who goes there?" Severus turned around to see Hagrid himself standing in the doorway. The half-giant's eyes went dark at the sight of him. "SNAPE! Yeh dirty great…" Seeing Snape's burden, Hagrid's mouth fell open. "Harry?" In a second, he had a wand leveled at Severus. "What've yeh done to him?"

"If I had murdered the boy, I would hardly be bringing him back," Severus said wryly. "Be so kind as to send for the headmistress."

"I'll send fer more than that!" Hagrid growled, and sent up an eruption of red sparks. He then started toward them, but Severus brought his own wand to bear. "If you've hurt 'im…"

"I have not harmed a hair on the brat's head," Severus replied. "But I will surrender him to none but the Order."

"I'm in the Order," Hagrid said, but he came no closer.

Severus was a little taken aback to see that Aurors were apparently still quartered at Hogwarts, but fortunately, Headmistress McGonagall had accompanied them. "Severus Snape. I had wondered if you would ever return to this school."

"I will spare you the pleasantries," Snape replied. "We both have a serious problem. Potter has become a threat."

"WHAT?" Hagrid bellowed, and several Aurors muttered denials, but the headmistress held up a hand.

"Explain yourself. What have you done to him?"

"Stunner only, but you'd best confine him before he's allowed to awaken. There's a remnant of the last Horcrux in him. Disbelieve me if you wish!" he snapped over the outraged protests. "But every second we wait increases the chance that the boy will be lost to it!"

"Who's to say Snape hasn't done something to him?" someone muttered.

"Enough," McGonagall said. Severus noted with relief how they minded her. "We will confine them both until I get to the bottom of this."

Severus suppressed a sigh as he turned his burden over to the Aurors. At least he hadn't been hexed on sight.

* * *

He was separated from Potter, but knew Minerva would heed his warning and put the boy in a warded room. Severus himself was confined in a tower room. Some time later, the headmistress came to see him, accompanied by Mad-Eye Moody and Nymphadora Tonks.

"So, Severus?"

He rose. "I presume you wish me to start from the beginning?" Minerva gestured imperiously at him, so he did. He told them of Dumbledore's last orders, though their unsurprised reactions told him they already knew. He told them of all that had transpired since, of the final battle, of the Dark Lord's defeat at the hands of Potter, and his agreement with the boy in the aftermath of the fight. He told them of their flight from wizarding Britain, of their safe house and the strange events that had begun to occur. He described Potter's failing health and odd behavior, of the snakes and the dark magic, and finally, how he had Stunned the boy and brought him back by force.

When he had finished, Minerva and the two Aurors were silent for several moments. "Harry's weak, but Madam Pomfrey hasn't determined the cause," Tonks said slowly.

"Doesn't mean Snape isn't the one behind it," Moody replied.

"You run a serious risk if you let that boy loose," Snape began, but Minerva raised a hand.

"He is in the hospital wing, in a warded room. I don't take foolish risks with the school's safety, no matter how unlikely the source." Snape gritted his teeth as she narrowed her eyes at him. "That doesn't change the fact that I find it very hard to believe that Harry Potter is somehow possessed."

"Strictly-speaking, he isn't," Severus told her. "If what he told me about the self-exorcism on the last Horcrux is true—and I believe in that at least he was not lying—then what remains within him is too small to even be properly classified as a Horcrux. Otherwise the Dark Lord would not have perished. What remains is a shard, a seed of Dark Magic, the very essence of a Horcrux's nature, after all." Minerva nodded, looking troubled. "Seed is an apt description, for it has taken root, and it is growing. The boy's personality is being supplanted by evil, but he is not even aware of it.

Tonks had lost her morphed form, and her heart-shaped face was white. But her voice was hard. "I can't imagine Harry becoming like Voldemort."

"I never said he would," Severus answered. "I think there's a possibility he'll be worse."

Before the Aurors could flay him alive, the Headmistress had called them to order. "Thank you, Severus. We'll determine for ourselves whether you are telling the truth. I trust you are willing to restate your claims under Veritaserum?"

"Whenever you wish," Severus said, meeting her eyes coldly. She nodded and turned to go. Then before he could stop himself, he added, "You already know that I am telling the truth about Albus."

Tonks and Moody glanced uncomfortably at her, but Minerva did not look back at Snape. She simply nodded and walked out the door.

Severus sat down again and resigned himself to wait.

* * *

Hermione Granger entered the hospital wing of Hogwarts at a run, pursued by an army of Weasleys. Tonks was waiting for them with Madam Pomfrey. Ron pushed past Hermione and grabbed the Auror by the elbow. "Is he here? Is he okay?"

"He's here, but something's wrong with him; you can't see him yet," Tonks said.

"What?" Hermione cried. "Why not?"

"We're not sure yet, but something's happened to him. His magic…well, it's all weird. And Snape's told some very odd things to the Headmistress, something about one of the Horcruxes."

"Snape," Ron spat, but Hermione sucked in her breath.

"We tried to stop him from going after those bloody things alone. The cup nearly killed him, the diary nearly killed Ginny…and Dumbledore's hand…it's possible one of them could have cursed him."

"Or Snape could have cursed him," Ron said darkly. "Whatever Dumbledore's portrait said, I wouldn't trust him alone with Harry."

"It could well be both a curse from a Horcrux AND from Snape," Ginny added.

Mrs. Weasley nudged her way past her assorted children. "Surely one of us can see him, even just for a few moments?"

"Definitely not," came Mad-Eye Moody's voice from the doorway as he followed the Headmistress of Hogwarts into the hospital wing. "Until we know whether Snape's telling the truth, the boy has to stay confined. Nobody goes near him until we figure out what's going on."

"You can't actually believe Snape!" one of the twins protested.

"It's not a question of belief," said McGonagall. "If there is even the slightest chance that he is right, the danger Potter poses is too great to ignore."

Hermione's blood ran cold. "What do you mean, 'danger?'"

McGonagall motioned them all to come sit down in the hospital wing while she explained. "Severus Snape has told us that the sixth Horcrux was in Harry himself." Over the explosion of outraged responses, she went on, "I know, I share your skepticism. But it would explain Harry's injuries."

The group fell silent. "Injuries?" Ginny asked softly.

"His condition is not good," Madam Pomfrey said. "And his magic…his body is giving some very strange magical signatures. I don't think his life is in danger at the moment, but I'm not sure how to treat him. If he's been wounded by a curse, then the wound is…deeper…than anything I've seen a curse do before."

"But…" Hermione said weakly. "It could have been from destroying one of the Horcruxes, right? We know how powerful the curses protecting them were, and Harry…well, he destroyed them all on his own."

"Of course," said Minerva gently. "I promise you, my dear Hermione, no one is jumping to ANY conclusions, and I would never act precipitously where Harry is concerned. We're going to do all that can possibly be done for him…we owe it to that boy. But until we know for certain what has happened to him, we cannot rule anything out."

There was silence as they all digested this. Hermione's mind raced through the months since the final battle against Voldemort. They had been frantic, with no word of Harry's fate. Ron had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown when the single letter had arrived, but while it had told them their best friend was alive…WHY was he hiding from them? He'd been so distant, those last few months of the war, but they had attributed it to his intense focus on destroying the Horcruxes and Voldemort. Everyone had thought he would come back home when it was over, to his friends, who loved him.

She had never imagined Harry would abandon them all.

Bill said suddenly, "Where's Snape?"

"Also confined," said Minerva.

"That's a comfort," muttered Mrs. Weasley, and there was a murmur of agreement.

"And Harry…" Ginny said. "He's not, I mean…you haven't locked him in a cell, or…"

"Of course not!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "He's here in the hospital wing, in a private room warded against the use of magic by its occupant, or his leaving the room. He's perfectly comfortable." Ginny relaxed.

"Still," Ron stood up, scowling, "he shouldn't be treated this way—like a ruddy criminal! I bet you anything Snape's trying to turn us against him. He's been mucking about with Harry for lord knows how long since the end of the war. If Harry was hurt in the fight or destroying the Horcruxes, you can bet Snape would grab any opportunity to make it worse. And if he's acting weird now, it's probably because Snape did something to him!"

"MISTER Weasley, do you think we're not considering that as well?" McGonagall demanded. "Calm yourself. We have him back among us at last, after we'd begun to despair of ever seeing him again. We will discover what has happened to him."

"But in the mean time, we can't even see him?" Hermione asked miserably.

"Give the Aurors a day or two to ward the room further. Then we'll see about visitors." Professor McGonagall gave them all a weary smile, then led Tonks and Moody down the hospital wing, presumably toward Harry's room.

Hermione and the Weasleys watched them go. Madam Pomfrey left as well, and with the school so empty, the hospital wing was echoingly silent. Ron sat down heavily on the bed. "They're holding back how bad they think it is."

Fleur, her pretty face pale, bit her lip and squeezed Bill's shoulder. "Do you think zey do not know at all was has happened to 'arry?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, worse. They think Snape might be right. That _Harry_ was one of the Horcruxes."

A nasty shudder went down Hermione's spine. They'd all rushed to Hogwarts with so much hope, hearing Harry had been found, thinking at last they'd be able to see him, to talk to him after all that time of waiting and not knowing…this wasn't fair.

_Then again, life has never been fair to us or Harry before, why should it start now?_

"So," she said aloud, startling Ron. "What do we do now?"

Dobby appeared, no sooner than she had spoken. The house elf was uncharacteristically solemn, his eyes downcast, his ears drooping. His socks matched. "Masters and misses to please come with Dobby, there is rooms for you here at Hogwarts, the Headmistress is ordered."

Hermione and the Weasleys exchanged glances, and Ron looked down the wing toward the private rooms. Harry was so close to them, but it felt very far right now. Finally, he said, "Sure, Dobby, lead on."

* * *

When Harry woke, he was not where he expected to be…and in the absolute last place he wanted to be. Even more infuriating was what Tonks and Madam Pomfrey told him.

"Confined! What do you mean, 'confined?'" he demanded. "You can't make me stay if I don't want to!"

Madam Pomfrey looked baffled. "Why wouldn't you want to? Your friends are here; they've been worried sick about you, Harry."

Harry sighed heavily. This was a fine mess. He changed his tactic. "I didn't mean it like that. I…did have my reasons for leaving, but it wasn't because I'd forgotten Ron and Hermione and…the others. But why am I being locked up?"

Tonks looked uncomfortable. "Snape had some…strange stories to tell when he brought you here. He's detained too until we sort it out." Harry stared in disbelief. What had that bloody bastard told them? "He's says you're still a remnant of a Horcrux."

"WHAT? That bloody, lying…I might have known…you CAN'T believe him!" Harry cried. It wasn't hard to show distress at this news…if he was held here for too long, there would be problems, depending on whether Snape had convinced them. "He's a liar, Tonks, I swear, he said he'd help me after the war ended…this must've been his plan all along!"

She avoided his eyes. "I know it sounds mad, but he says you wouldn't know you were falling to it because it's not a whole Horcrux. Not possession, but something more…subtle." At Harry's disbelieving face, she said helplessly, "Moody ordered you both confined until we figure out what's going on. Your magic is a bit…off."

Harry threw up his hands and started to pace. "So what are you going to do?"

"To begin with, young man, you are going to have something to eat," said Madam Pomfrey briskly. "And then the Headmistress and Alastor Moody will come talk to you. No doubt you can shed some light on this."

"Oh, I certainly can," Harry growled, but he settled down and ate the breakfast they brought him. While he did, he asked Tonks, "You said Ron and Hermione are here?"

She nodded, relaxing a bit. "And champing at the bit to see you. We'll see what we can do about that as soon as Minerva and Mad-Eye have had a chat with you."

Harry blinked. "You mean an interrogation, don't you?"

Tonks laughed out loud. "Don't be daft, Harry. You haven't been arrested or even accused of a crime, but there's a lot of possible reasons for what's happened to you, and until we're sure…well, you know, better safe than sorry. Cheer up. It'll be fine." He sighed again, and she echoed it. "I guess we could've given you a better homecoming and welcome. Believe me, we'd all have had it different."

_Yeah, right,_ he thought. They'd been all-too-willing to take what Snape said as an excuse to lock him up and tie him down like a caged pet again. How could he ever have looked up to these people? By all rights, it should have been vice versa. Aloud, he simply murmured, "Damn Snape. I didn't want it to be like this."

"I know," Tonks said softly. "Neither did we. But I promise, laddie, if he's behind this, if he's lying or he's hurt you in any way, he'll pay for it."

Harry gave her the first real smile since he'd awakened. "Now THAT thought cheers me up."

Tonks grinned fondly.

* * *

After they had spent over an hour talking to Harry, Headmistress McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody came out to meet the anxious Ron and Hermione. "Well?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"We may have a problem," said Moody.

The two froze. Minerva said gently, "Harry admits he was the sixth Horcrux."

Ron sucked in his breath, and Hermione raised a trembling hand to her mouth. "What…what does that mean?"

"We're not sure. The boy claims to have destroyed it, but…"

"CLAIMS?" Ron leapt to his feet and might have lunged at Moody if Hermione hadn't grabbed him and pulled him back. "What the HELL do you mean by that? That Harry's lying? That Harry's some Death Eater spy? You going to throw him in Azkaban for the sake of your bloody constant vigilance?"

"WEASLEY!" Professor McGonagall roared. "That is quite enough!" Ron fell silent, though no less angry. "I told you before we have no intention of acting rashly, and that has not changed! Kindly keep your wits!"

Hermione firmly pushed Ron back into a chair and said, "But why would Harry lie? And Voldemort is dead, so the Horcrux must have been destroyed. We all saw his body! We destroyed it ourselves!"

"We did, but that doesn't completely debunk Snape's theory that some fragment of the Horcrux could still exist, too small to sustain Voldemort, but able to survive itself by becoming a part of the soul of its host, if you will. Potter himself wouldn't even be aware of its existence—to him it would seem a part of his personality, emotions that he himself feels," Moody explained.

"And that means what exactly for Harry?" asked Hermione. "That he's…turning evil?"

"Being turned evil is a better way to put it, but yes, you've got the heart of the matter," the old Auror said. Ron nearly jumped up again, but Moody snapped, "Sit DOWN, you stupid kid! I'm not saying I believe that's what's happened, but until we've figured it out, we can't bloody well rule it out!"

"But how can you figure it out?" Hermione protested. "If Harry himself doesn't know, how can we?"

"We, Harry's friends and loved ones, are in the best position to judge this possibility, Hermione," said McGonagall. "Madam Pomfrey is continuing to study the signatures his magic is showing. There are many other possible explanations."

"Such as?" Ron demanded.

Moody shrugged and began counting them off on his fingertips. "Injury to the magical core, some kind of dark, deep-reaching curse, caused either by the Horcruxes or fighting Voldemort—or Snape…"

"Deep mental or emotional trauma can also trigger changes in an individual's magic," added the Headmistress. "Harry's withdrawal after the war might suggest such a thing."

Ron looked somewhat mollified. "What can we do to help him, then?"

"Depends," said Moody. "Magical injury, we've got a whole slew of Healers and researchers at the Ministry and St. Mungo's—and a few in the Department of Mysteries. If old Voldemort came up with some special bit of nasty for the Boy Who Lived, I doubt there'll be any shortage of volunteers to unravel it. Something mental, ehhh, that's a bit trickier to Heal, but St. Mungo's has people who can help with that too."

"And what if it does turn out to be what Snape says, this…Horcrux fragment?" Hermione asked. "How can we destroy it without destroying Harry?"

Moody grimaced. "Not sure that can be done, lass."

Ron was back out of his seat in a flash. "You…you…" he sputtered, white-faced with fury. "How can you even SUGGEST…"

"Possibility's got to be faced," said Moody, unfazed by Ron's rage.

"LIKE HELL!" Ron roared, as Hermione tried in vain to calm him down. "So help me, if you even THINK about hurting Harry, I'LL KILL YOU!"

"RON!" Hermione shouted, yanking him back. "Stop it! This isn't helping!"

"Did you HEAR what he said?"

"It's just speculation, Weasley!"

"Not when you're even talking about killing Harry!"

"FACE IT, Weasley!" Moody bellowed. "It's my job to account for all possibilities, even the worst-case scenario. It's my job to face facts! The fact is, if Potter is carrying a Horcrux fragment, we DON'T have a way to destroy it without killing him." He quieted a little as Ron started to shake. "That doesn't mean we won't start looking for one."

Hermione felt nauseated. "If it came to that?"

"I would never allow Harry Potter to be harmed if there was even the slightest chance that we could save him," said McGonagall. "We know that it was possible to destroy a Horcrux without destroying the host object—Albus Dumbledore removed the Horcrux from the Slytherin ring without so much as damaging it. But at the moment, the issue is abstract, and we must concentrate on the more pressing matter—determining what exactly IS the cause of Harry's condition."

Feeling Ron finally starting to calm down, Hermione nodded. "Can we see him yet?"

McGonagall looked at Moody. "Wards are as tight as we can make 'em," he said. "All right by me."

"But don't tire him," Minerva cautioned. "His physical health is rather fragile as well, at the moment." Hermione nodded, then tugged at Ron's arm and led him down the hall.

"Listen," she whispered as they approached the private rooms. "I don't think we'd better say anything to Harry about that. He's probably upset enough as it is."

"You think they've told him what they think?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. But he won't be happy about being locked up like this. I just don't want to make him feel any worse." Ron nodded, and they spotted Madam Pomfrey waiting outside one of the rooms.

"Ah, I'm glad you two are here. Poor boy could use some company."

"How is he?" Hermione asked.

"Still weak, if only I could determine why. Don't wear him out," she warned them.

"We promise," Hermione said, and Madam Pomfrey opened the door.

Harry was sitting up on the bed in the room, with his chin on his knees. He glanced up as Ron and Hermione came through the door, and Hermione faltered. He did look different, but not evil or possessed. He looked thinner than ever, his face pale and drawn, his eyes shadowed and darker than she remembered. He looked sick and weary, as if some essence of him had been worn away.

"Hi," Ron said tentatively.

Their friend swallowed and gazed at the wall, his face unreadable. Finally, he said, "I wasn't sure they'd let you come."

"We'd have nagged and fought with them on it till they did," Hermione told him, trying to muster a smile. She didn't succeed very well, and Harry failed completely when he tried to return it. "We…Harry, we really missed you."

"I know," Harry muttered, dropping his eyes. "I'm sorry, I just…I wanted to be…alone for a bit."

"A bit?" Ron exclaimed, and Hermione glared at him, but Harry shrugged.

"I guess it didn't feel like that long." His eyes darkened still more, this time with anger. "'Course, that may have something to do with Snape."

Hermione and Ron hurried forward to sit on the edges of the bed. "Did they tell you what he's said?"

"That I'm possessed, or…infected, or…something, yeah, they told me." For the first time, he looked anxious, like a younger Harry she was having a harder and harder time remembering. "You know it's not true, right? You don't believe it?"

"Of course not!" Hermione snapped, grabbing his hand. Harry sighed heavily in relief.

"I dunno if McGonagall and Moody believe me. I told them about the Horcrux, but…that alone seems to be making them think…"

"They know better than to trust Snape's word alone," Hermione insisted. "They're more worried about how…well, how ill you seem. How long have you been like this?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't really know. I think it started before the battle while I was going after the Horcruxes, but…after Snape and I took off, I don't remember much. He said I'd been cursed. Seemed like he was taking care of me, so I believed him."

"Why'd you go with HIM, mate?" Ron demanded.

That got a tired laugh from Harry, and Hermione felt herself relaxing at the sight of his sheepish face. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. I'd seen the Pensieve memories from Dumbledore, you know, where he said Snape was…working for him still. And Snape did hex Voldemort during the fight, he might've saved my life. He said he was following Dumbledore's last wish by looking after me, and suggested going away. I didn't really want to see anyone when it was first over, so I…" Harry shrugged again helplessly. "I don't really know what I was thinking. I trusted him, for some reason. Seems mad to have done it now." To Hermione, he asked, "Think he Confunded me or something?"

She grimaced. "Hard to say without checking his wand or your magical signature, but Madam Pomfrey might be able to figure it out. Confundus is hard to trace, but whatever's got you weakened might have a stronger signature. If we can figure out what the curse is, we might still be able to trace it back to Snape, and then whether you were Confunded or something else is a moot point."

"Git," Ron muttered.

"Have they said whether they're going to let me out of here?" Harry asked.

"Until they can prove Snape's lying or not, I guess," Hermione said. Harry flopped backward onto his bed, and she patted his arm apologetically. "It's not our choice, you know. I had to stop Ron from strangling Moody with his bare hands."

"Constant vigilance my arse," Ron said, and Harry grinned.

"Thanks. If you two believe me, I guess…well, that counts for something."

"It counts for a LOT, mate," Ron told him.

"I offered to take Veritaserum, but Madam Pomfrey says I'm too weak." Harry sighed. "So I can't really prove what I'm saying, and they can do anything they want if they decide to believe Snape."

"I don't care what rot Snape dreams up; we won't let them do anything to you."

"Snape wants them to kill me, doesn't he?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances, and Harry's eyes widened. He tried—and failed—to sit back up quickly. "Don't wear yourself out," Hermione said. "Snape hasn't said anything particular, but I would guess that's what he's up to. Don't worry, it won't come to that. Not even close."

Harry lay back again and stared at the ceiling. "Dumbledore told me, back in fifth year…when Voldemort wanted to possess me, it wasn't to destroy Dumbledore. It was to make Dumbledore destroy me. I heard him say it when he…in the Department of Mysteries. 'Kill the boy now.'"

Hermione's throat tightened. "Oh, Harry…"

"It's gonna be okay. I swear, mate, it'll be okay."

Harry nodded, not looking at them, his face drawn tighter than ever. "Are you tired?" Hermione asked him.

"Yeah. Sorry, I…get tired easily. Wish I knew why." Harry closed his eyes.

"Take it easy," Ron said. "We'll figure it out." The two of them got up.

"Get some rest," Hermione told him. "We'll see you later, okay? The rest of the Weasleys are here. They all want to see you too."

Harry opened his eyes, though he still didn't look at them. "Is…Ginny here?"

They both grinned. "Yeah. Snape better steer well clear of her," said Ron. "We'll make sure she comes alone." He winked. Harry blushed.

Hermione bent over him and kissed his cheek. "See you later."

"Bye."

They left the private room and closed the door behind themselves. "This is ridiculous. I can't believe Moody and the Headmistress are placing any stock at all in Snape," Hermione spat.

"Yeah, I'm more sure than ever it's just Harry. Still, they'll more likely believe you than me, so I'm glad you think so," Ron said.

She stopped and sat down on a windowsill, gazing out at the empty grounds. "I can see he's not feeling well, and I guess you could call him 'not himself,' but what on earth do they expect after everything that's happened? He had to go hunt down all those Horcruxes, perform a ruddy EXORCISM on himself—do you have any idea how many people have died doing that? Out of the few who've even dared to try it?"

Ron shook his head. "But Harry's more powerful than any of us. Dumbledore lost his hand, and he only got one of the bloody things! We did see Harry after the cup and the locket, and he made it through them all! I heard the Aurors say he was still standing when the battle was over."

"Last man standing," Hermione muttered. Seeing Ron's confused face, she shook her head. "Nothing. Anyway, yes, I amquite certain that whatever is wrong with Harry, he has neither turned evil nor 'been turned evil,' or whatever it was Moody said."

* * *

Lunch time came and went with no less than three shouting matches between the Headmistress, the Aurors, and Harry's friends. Professor Lupin had arrived while Harry was with Ron and Hermione, frantic to see him, but the Aurors and Madam Pomfrey had refused, and neither Remus nor Hagrid had been happy about it. Then Ron and Hermione returned from their visit to report to the remaining worried Weasleys that while Harry seemed sick and unhappy, he could not be carrying a remnant of Voldemort's soul around inside him.

That was enough for Ginny, but to her dismay, Moody was reluctant to let her visit Harry, and Madam Pomfrey didn't want more than one visit a day to avoid tiring Harry out. The Healer's position she could accept; Moody's, she bristled at. "I'm only a year younger than those two," she fumed at them, gesturing to Ron and Hermione, "and I've seen just as much action in the war as they did! I am MORE than capable of taking care of myself in the event that Harry goes nutters and tries to murder me—which I rather doubt will happen!"

"I took a few of my Dark Detectors outside that room," Moody said. "Foe Glass didn't show anything, but the Secrecy Sensor went off."

"I didn't hear it," said Madam Pomfrey in surprise.

"Wasn't that loud."

"And it would have been if the source of the evil had been as close as Harry was," Hermione pointed out. "This castle has always been full of nasty little surprises, from the Chamber of Secrets to…to…Snape!"

Moody's expression told them he couldn't deny the sense of her words, but he said to the Headmistress, "Still, I don't like it. Something's not right with that boy."

"Of course something's not right!" Hermione raged. "He's been through nearly eight years of absolute hell, between Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the war, the Horcruxes, the deaths, Snape, and now YOU! What on earth do you expect, for him to be happy and smiling?"

"Hermione, really!" said McGonagall, but Hermione rounded on her.

"You lot have always been so happy to have Harry run around and fight your battles for you!" she cried, tears spilling down her face. "What good did your Dark Detectors do in stopping Quirrell, the diary, the Basilisk, Wormtail, Barty Crouch, Draco Malfoy, and the rest? Where were YOU when Harry got stuck in that Triwizard Tournament and kidnapped and watched poor Cedric die? Where were YOU when Umbridge and Fudge were slandering him and his godfather was killed right in front of him? When Dumbledore turned him into a bloody WEAPON instead of a human being? I'm sorry!" she sobbed as Hagrid and some of the Weasleys started to protest. "I know you loved him! Harry did too, more than anything. I loved him too, but he never should have let all these things happen to HIS student in HIS school and I will NEVER, EVER forgive him!" Ginny gulped as Hermione gave up and fell into Ron's arms, crying furiously.

Wiping her face on the back of her hand hastily, she turned back to the adults. "Speaking of the diary and the Basilisk, I think I've got the right to see Harry," she said tightly. "Especially if he's asked for me." The Headmistress, Madam Pomfrey, and the Aurors exchanged uncomfortable glances, and Ginny didn't back down.

Professor Lupin cleared his throat. "If Ginny will be so kind as to tell Harry I'm here, I can wait until after she's had a chance to see him. I'm sure she's more attractive company than myself," he added, smiling at her and putting a hand on Tonks's shoulder.

"Harry'll be glad to know you've come," said Ginny. "I'll be sure to tell him." Then she turned back to the Aurors, folded her arms, and raised her eyebrows.

McGonagall slowly nodded. "Very well, Miss Weasley. After you, unless Madam Pomfrey agrees, there will be no more visitors today." Several audible sighs came from the other Weasleys (and Hagrid) but no one protested. "You may go."

Ginny ran all the way back to the hospital wing.

* * *

Harry had no doubt that she would be coming. He was waiting when she came into the room. He sat up as soon as the door opened. "Ginny!"

She barely hesitated, but flew across the short space to the bedside and threw her arms around him. He returned the embrace fiercely. "Are you okay?" she demanded breathlessly.

"I am now. I was afraid they wouldn't let you come," he said into her hair. He could feel her heart speeding up against his chest.

"So was I," she laughed, then pulled back and gazed at him. "You look terrible!"

"Gee, thanks," he said dryly.

"You know what I mean."

He sat down on the bed, letting his head hang. "I guess I've been better."

Ginny sat down beside him. "Has Madam Pomfrey made any progress?"

With a shrug, Harry told her, "Some Restorative Potions and general Healing Spells, but nothing else." He dared a quick glance at her. "I guess Ron and Hermione told you what Snape's said about me?"

Ginny snorted. "Don't worry, nobody believes it. Hermione let McGonagall and Moody have it during lunch. Ron's lost it at least three times, but I don't think they expected it from Hermione. It was kind of funny."

Harry forced a laugh, but leaned away from her. "I hate this."

"Me too. We all do."

"I feel like…like…a prisoner. Or like I'm locked up again at the Dursleys' again. They always say it's too protect me, and have the excuse not to tell me what's going on." He punched the pillow beside him as Ginny made a sympathetic noise. "Like I'm too bloody delicate to run my own life."

"I know," Ginny whispered. "Believe me, I know exactly what that's like. Remember Grimmauld Place, the summer after the Triwizard Tournament? Mum sending me to bed anytime you talked about the Order or the war. I was the only one not allowed to know anything."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I guess you of all people understand what it's like…it's so bloody unfair. And now I'm of age, and they come up with another excuse to lock me up."

Ginny put an arm around his shoulders. "Hang on. They won't keep you here for long; we won't let them."

"How exactly?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

She grinned, "Well, we'll spring you if we have to!"

Dropping his head into his hands, he sighed, "I wish you would. If I stay in here much longer, I'm going to go barking mad." He looked up and saw Ginny's speculative expression. "You know what wards they've got on the room?"

"No," Ginny said slowly. "But I bet Hermione could find out."

"Definitely," Harry agreed. "Trouble is, I dunno if she'd be willing to help; she's such a stickler for the rules."

"True, but she'd be better than any of us at figuring out the wards. She's really upset about all this, and she knows Snape's lying. I bet we could talk her into it if they don't let you out soon."

Harry scowled. "I just don't feel like waiting until THEY decide they're ready. They've got no right, Ginny, not anymore! I'm of age, I defeated bloody Voldemort, now I just want to be left alone!"

She frowned, realizing how serious he was. "Where would you go?"

"I dunno, somewhere that I wouldn't have to be the Ministry and Hogwarts's pet anymore." He saw her astonished face and said, "Well, that's what I am to them! It's all I've ever been! And I'M the one who killed Voldemort, but they still treat me like I'm made of glass! I'm sick of it!"

"You do deserve better than that," Ginny mused, looking at her hands.

"A lot better," he said, pressing her. "Ginny, can't I trust you? All through the war, I've been pushed around, told what to do and when to do it, kept in the dark, all to suit THEM. Can't someone do something for ME, now that I've gone and done what they wanted?"

Ginny slowly nodded. "But what about the curse on you?" she asked, lowering her voice as if afraid of being overheard. "We've still got to get it treated—what if you're out alone somewhere and it gets worse?"

"I can research curses and dark magic as well as Hermione if I need to." Sensing her resistance, he conceded, "Or if I have to check myself into St. Mungo's, at least I'd be doing on my own power."

"Good point," she said. He met her gaze, trying to convince her of his sincerity. "Where will you go? Are you just going to disappear again?"

"Depends on whether McGonagall and the Ministry are willing to leave me alone. If they'd just let me be, there'd be no reason for me to leave. I could…you know, get a place to live, my own, and…start a new life." She was watching him very seriously now. He went on, "It's not too much to ask. We don't all have to be separated again."

"I would hate that," she admitted softly.

"Me too," he whispered, leaning closer to her. "I missed you, Ginny. A lot. There were things I had to do during the war, but now that that's over…we can…be together." He gave her a shy smile. "I wouldn't mind terribly if you wanted to come with me, if I had to take off, I mean. Just the two of us?"

Ginny seemed to search his eyes, then leaned toward him, and he kissed her softly, offering yet another incentive. "If I can just get out of here, the war's over; we could do whatever we wanted."

"What about Ron and Hermione?" she asked.

"Depends on whether they're going to help me or get in the way," he said firmly.

"I would at least need their help un-warding this room," she replied. She sat back away from him, biting her lip. "I think they'd help. They really think McGonagall and the Aurors are over the line, keeping you here."

He leaned toward her. "Then you'll do it?"

She stood up and started pacing. "Your Firebolt is still here. You left it last year. I've got my broom too…would you be up for a long ride? We'd get outside the grounds that way, faster than going out to apparate. Ron and Hermione…well, I don't know, Ron hasn't got his broomstick."

"We could arrange to meet them somewhere," he suggested.

Ginny leaned against the wall, but tilted her head thoughtfully. "The only trouble is, Moody and McGonagall keep talking about how high the risk is if there's even the slightest chance Snape's right. They're not going to like you running off before they can confirm it."

"I don't care. It's not really their business anymore what's inside my head, is it?" Harry said coldly. "Voldemort's dead. They've had their chances to order me around."

She slowly nodded. "I doubt Madam Pomfrey will let me come back today, but I'll get Ron and Hermione in the library tonight. And I'll see about getting them to tell me what wards are on the room."

Harry sprang off the bed and kissed her. She wavered for a moment, then deepened it, putting her arms around him. "I knew I could trust you," he whispered. He remembered once how much he'd enjoyed kissing her, now it was mostly satisfaction that he'd got her to help him.

Ron and Hermione might not be happy about his plan, but once he was out of here, he could leave them if he needed to. Those old friendships were like a vague memory of the naivete of childhood, but boring and dull now. He had his life, he had his own power, and soon he would win his freedom. If those old friendships—and crushes—were useful one last time, that was no matter to him.

* * *

Ron and Hermione were on their way to dinner when Ginny came back from the Hospital Wing. "How's he doing?" Ron asked, seeing her set expression.

"Where's McGonagall?" she asked flatly.

"The Great Hall with everyone else," said Hermione in confusion. "Is Harry okay?" Ginny didn't answer, but started walking so fast that they were practically running to keep up. "What's the matter?"

Ginny flicked her wand at the Hall doors to open them, and marched straight up to the Head Table where the Headmistress and the two Aurors were sitting with Remus Lupin and her parents. "Did you see Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ginny directed her gaze at Professor McGonagall. "Where's Snape?"

"Confined in a tower room," she answered.

Ginny kept herself firmly in a state of stony calm—to hold down the emotions churning in her stomach and her heart.

"Let him out. He's telling the truth."

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming Soon:_** _Harry has underestimated Ginny, and now she and Snape must force everyone else to accept the ugly truth. A race against time begins to find a way to fight the monster taking over Harry Potter's soul in Chapter Five: Familiar Stranger!_

**Don't forget to review!**


	5. Familiar Stranger

**_A/N:_** _At long last, the muse is back in full force! Nothing like a holiday home with Mum (and food) to get the creativity flowing again. Many thanks to everyone for all your wonderful reviews! Please keep 'em coming!_

**Chapter Five: Familiar Stranger**

"Ginny," Ron said, his expression incredulous. "What…the…HELL…are you talking about?"

Drawing a shaky breath, Ginny repeated herself, holding Headmistress McGonagall's gaze. "Professor Snape is telling the truth. That's not Harry, or…at least, not only Harry."

As the others started to choke out protests or questions, the Headmistress motioned for silence. Meeting Ginny's eyes, she said gently, "Go on, Miss Weasley. What happened?"

Forcing herself to ignore the horrified faces around her, Ginny said, "He asked me to help him break out of the hospital wing and run away. At first I thought he was just upset at being locked up, but…there's something else. It's in his eyes." Finally looking at Ron and Hermione, undeniably closer to Harry than even she had ever been, she explained softly, "I'm not surprised you didn't see it. I don't think I'd have caught it—on its face, Harry's just upset and irrational, but…I recognized it. It's deep inside him; I don't think he even realizes it, just like Snape said." Panic, grief, and old nightmares were trying to overwhelm her. _Focus, girl! Concentrate! You have to convince them! For Harry!_ "I've seen it before," she whispered.

Comprehension dawned on Hermione's face, and she turned pale. Ginny's siblings and parents too realized what she was trying to say. "When I was writing in Tom Riddle's diary my first year, toward the end, when I really stopped being able to…resist him, I could actually see him. Face to face. A boy, just like Harry saw. It wasn't until I was under his control completely that I realized what was in his eyes. It's red, and it's just…evil. Calculating and manipulating and not caring at all about anyone else." She looked at them all and insisted hoarsely, "It's inside Harry. I tell you, I saw it. I've never forgotten it."

Professor McGonagall came around the Head Table quickly and steered Ginny to a chair. "Sit down, Miss Weasley." She pressed a glass of ice water into Ginny's hand, and looked at the others while Ginny sipped it and tried not to be sick. "I cannot take this report lightly. This young lady may be the only person besides Albus Dumbledore and Harry himself who has been in close contact with Lord Voldemort."

"There's one other, Minerva," said Remus Lupin quietly. "As much as it scares me to say it. Severus Snape. He's been closer to Voldemort than any of us, Albus included."

"No," Ron breathed. "Harry can't be…"

"Every second we waste denying it is a second that _thing _has to take over him!" Ginny hissed.

"Hush! Everyone!" the Headmistress ordered. "Alastor, the first thing we had better do is ask Severus to repeat his claims under Veritaserum."

Moody nodded and started to get up, but Ron protested, "Harry offered to do that too!"

"It's out of the question!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. "Physically and magically, he is far too weak to safely administer that potion. It could damage his mind permanently."

Very quietly, as if she didn't want to really say it, Hermione murmured, "Harry would already know that. We spent three days on dangerous Potions in Slughorn's class last year: if a person's had any kind of head injury or suffered magical shock recently, Veritaserum is too powerful. It's one of the riskiest Potions in use. He would have known even when he offered to take it that there was no way Madam Pomfrey would agree."

Ron's mouth was open, but he couldn't seem to think of a thing to say. He just stared at Hermione and Ginny as if he couldn't believe they were doing this. "Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley said in a small voice. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Ginny turned to her mother and nodded. "He's inside Harry. I saw it. I felt it. If it's true that Harry doesn't even know, then he wouldn't expect me to recognize anything."

Remus turned to Ron and Hermione. "And the two of you saw nothing…suspicious, in his behavior or in his eyes?"

"Honestly, nothing that stands out, and I keep thinking through the whole conversation," Hermione said miserably. "He looked tired, and kind of sick…I didn't get much of a look at his eyes because he didn't really look at us."

"I wonder," said Tonks, "could he have been more cautious with the two of you? Knowing him as well as you do?"

"But what would we have seen? We've never met Voldemort—though I guess if his eyes were red or something we'd have caught that," Ron said.

"You might have realized he wasn't himself—in a serious way, more than just ill," said Bill, sitting down next to Ginny and putting an arm around her. "It makes sense, you know. When a person's been cursed to change their behavior, what usually clues others in is that the victim's loved ones see the change in personality, the victim doing things he would never have done. Sometimes it's reflected physically, in their eyes or in another way, but not always. If Harry's not aware of anything changed in his eyes and didn't think Ginny knows him well enough to catch onto his behavior, he might have been willing to risk looking at her."

"Buggeration," muttered one of the twins.

Ron dropped into another chair. "I can't believe this is happening." But he no longer vehemently denied Ginny and Snape's claims.

Moody opened the door then, and peered through at them. "Headmistress?" he jerked his head to beckon her out.

"I will be back presently," she told the others. "No one—not even you, Poppy—is to go anywhere near the Hospital Wing." Ginny noticed that she flicked her wand as she said it, making Ginny suspect that there would be some kind of extra ward or enchantment enforcing the order.

* * *

Minerva followed Alastor down the hall a ways. "Well?"

The old Auror nodded to her, "He's telling the truth. I left him while the stuff wears off, but I gave him the full three drops and got the whole story again. Every word. Man's always been brilliant at Potions, but even he can't fool Veritaserum. He's convinced the boy's got a Horcrux fragment in him, feeding off his soul, and after what the Weasley girl said, it's fairly obvious that he's right."

Minerva sighed quietly and closed her eyes. "So it comes to this. The worst possible explanation. Poor Harry."

"Potter most likely doesn't realize what's happening to him. But Snape's got a point—that boy's powerful enough that if he goes dark on us…" Moody's face was grim. "Can't let it happen, Minerva. Whatever the cost."

Taking a deep breath, she said, "Then let us release Severus. I refuse to consider harming a hair on that boy's head until we have exhausted every possible resource in the wizarding world. And Severus may yet be the best resource we have."

"Right. I'll get him." Moody started back down the hall, but glanced back at her with a wry expression. "It's interesting. He definitely hates Potter with a real passion, but he's taking his word to Dumbledore seriously. He'll save the boy or die trying."

Minerva shook her head. "The motivations of Severus Snape have always been a source of great confusion."

* * *

Moody came back into Snape's room and gave him a Potion to alleviate the last effects of the Veritaserum. Once it wore off, Severus shook his head and looked at the older man. "Well?"

"Follow me."

Severus was led into the Great Hall, to his surprise. He had hoped that his statement under Veritaserum would help his case, but he hadn't expected them to release him completely. But it was clear that he had been, from the uncomfortable expressions of the Weasleys and Potter's other friends assembled in the room. The reason remained a mystery to Severus until a solemn Ginevra Weasley stepped away from her family. Then he put two and two together.

"You saw it in him?"

The girl nodded. "You did too."

"I did."

"Do you know how to help him?"

"I have had time to consider many options, but at the present, they are all theoretical."

She glanced around at the reluctant faces of Potter's admirers, and looked back at Severus. "Then we have work to do."

* * *

Half an hour later, there were volumes from every section of the library—Restricted Section included—littering the tops of the tables in the Great Hall, along with piles of musty scrolls, a few wax and stone tablets, notebooks, and Potion ingredients. No one had felt much like eating dinner, and while it was already late evening, no one felt much like sleeping either.

"How do you think Harry will react when he finds out we know?" Granger asked them as she jotted down notes from a massive text she was searching.

Moody shrugged. "May still deny it—he's unaware anything's happened to him. Or may drop all pretenses."

"You may prepare yourself for a good deal of unpleasantness, in that case," Snape told her. "Potter's behavior took a decidedly sadistic turn while in my company." The girl stared at him, and her face went slightly green.

"I guess you'd know all about sadistic people," Ron Weasley muttered. Granger had the grace to hiss and elbow him.

"That's not helping!"

Severus was not in the slightest bit fazed by the boy's hostility, but for amusement's sake, cast a surreptitious glance around the room and spotted resentful glares from several other members of the Weasley clan, the mother and the twins, and merely uncomfortable reluctance from the father and the two older boys. Interestingly enough, only the daughter seemed completely amenable to working with Snape. Then again, perhaps that was not at all surprising; the Weasley girl was the only person in the room who arguably knew _precisely_ what they were up against, apart from Severus himself. She and he had both had the misfortune to experience the Dark Lord's more appealing persona—the manipulative and enticing, rather than the merely threatening.

That side of the Dark Lord was, in Snape's opinion, far more dangerous. No doubt Ginevra Weasley knew it too.

"You're looking at a lot of information about Legilimency," she observed, coming toward him with a very old volume about demonic possession.

Without looking up from the text he was reading, he replied, "I believe it will be necessary in the process of discovering a treatment for Potter." From the corner of his eye, he saw Granger perking up, and coming toward his section of the table, along with Lupin, the Aurors, and McGonagall.

"What's your theory?" Moody asked bluntly.

"I have no definite theory as yet on how to remove the Horcrux fragment from the boy's soul," Severus said. "But I am convinced that we will need Potter's cooperation to do it."

"But you said Harry himself doesn't know that thing is inside him," said the eldest Weasley son.

Severus nodded. "Therefore, we must endeavor to determine where the Horcrux ends and Potter begins. And find a means of separating the two—isolating the alien soul from his—at least long enough for Potter's original personality to emerge. Once that is done, provided we can avoid damaging his mind or his memory, the boy will be aware of what has happened, and in a position to assist us."

"That's why you got these," Granger said, pouncing on a book about magical treatment of split personalities and other mental disorders in wizards.

"And that is why we will need to employ Legilimency," Severus finished. "If I can find the boundaries between the two souls, I will be able, at least temporarily, to Occlude between them. Or rather assist Potter's own mind in Occluding."

"Have you ever done Mind Healing?" the Weasley girl asked, reading the mental book over Granger's shoulder. "It says they're all Legilimency Masters."

"I have no formal certifications in those subjects, but I am confident that my level of skill at Mind Magic is that of a Mastery," Severus replied. Granger looked uneasy, but Miss Weasley nodded.

"It says here that the barrier between two personalities is easy to find."

"That is in the case of a wizard suffering from a mental disorder. Those are confined to the brain, Miss Weasley. Potter's case involves the soul, the very core and source of all individuality, magic, reason, and emotion in a human being. The lines between an individual's traits are blurred there, overlapping and layered. Deep Occlusion has been used to remove a curse from the soul of an individual, but a curse remains foreign magic. To isolate the Horcrux, I shall have to distinguish between two souls. Even in two individuals as un-alike as Harry Potter and the Dark Lord, there is no understating the difficulty.

He was surprised at how steadily the girl met his eyes and accepted the facts without flinching. "But you think you can do it."

It was not a question. It was an observation. He could not deny a respect for her. There was an understanding between those who had stood in the full force of the Dark Lord's influence that could never be ended or denied. And so he found it easier than expected to speak plainly with her. "I do."

* * *

Ginny insisted on going with them to the hospital wing the following day, when Snape and the Aurors decided that the preliminary research was as complete as they could make it. "We'll know better how to proceed once Snape gets a look at what's going on in Potter's head," said Moody.

Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys came as well, but only Ginny went all the way to Harry's room. At first, the others had protested, until Snape informed them, "You would be well-advised to stay clear if you cannot stand the idea of force being used on your beloved Potter."

"Force?" Ginny's mother had repeated, her tension increasing.

"The boy will not cooperate when he realizes my story has been verified. He will resist, Madam. How hard will determine how much force must be used to subdue him so that I may proceed with the Legilimency."

Hermione took it surprisingly well, although she did not ask to go to the room. Ginny had assumed correctly that once Hermione couldn't deny the truth of the situation, she would manage to apply her intellect to the problem and push her emotions, however intense, to the background. That was a good thing; they needed Hermione's brains in full working order. "Will you just Stun him?"

Snape shook his head. "He must be conscious. Fortunately, the boy never learned to Occlude even on the smallest level. Only physical restraint will be necessary."

That statement had unpleasant implications, of course; no doubt everyone was seeing a mental picture of Harry being tied to a chair. The magical equivalent would probably be necessary.

Ginny was the first into the room. Harry jumped up with a sly smile at the sight of her…but turned dead white when Snape followed her in. He seemed to freeze up completely when Moody and McGonagall came after them.

His gaze fell on Ginny again. Words flitted through her mind like bees, buzzing around too quickly for her to catch, so she said nothing. It was Snape who broke the standoff. "A nice try, Mr. Potter."

Harry lunged. What good he thought it would do, Ginny didn't know, as Headmistress McGonagall smoothly pulled her behind Snape and Moody to the doorway. A mild hex from Moody knocked Harry back, and the two advanced. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Potter!" Moody snapped, but Harry was in no mood to listen.

"Get away from me!" he snarled, and grabbed the lamp on the table beside the bed, ready to use it as a weapon.

Snape took dead aim with his wand. "_Mesmerus!_"

White light flashed through the air, illuminating Harry's body for a split second, and then he stood motionless, holding the lamp, a dazed look on his face. Ginny realized she was clutching McGonagall's arm, with the Headmistress's hand firmly covering hers. "Entrancing Spell—good thinking," muttered Moody. "I was going to try _Imperio_, but he's resistant."

Snape went forward and took the lamp out of Harry's hand. Harry's brow furrowed, as if he were trying to drum up the will to fight, but he seemed unable to focus enough to react. Then Moody marched up to him and led him by both arms to a chair, pushing him into it. Ginny swallowed hard. Harry's eyes were half-lidded, and he seemed slightly limp as he moved, his head hanging forward. Moody did a spell that bound him in the chair, then motioned to Snape.

"Your show."

Snape knelt in front of Harry and raised his wand. "_Finite._" The trance lifted, and Harry blinked, but Snape began the next spell so fast that he had no time to react. "_Legilimens!_"

Harry's eyes went wide, but Snape had seized the sides of his face and was staring intently at him, no doubt probing his mind with more strength than Harry could hope to counter.

Ginny gasped, realizing only then that she'd been holding her breath. Moody glanced at her. "How long?" she croaked.

The old Auror shrugged. "No way to know. Go on, lass. Nothing you can do here."

* * *

Making the entrance into Harry Potter's mind was easy; the boy had always been too emotional for Occlumency, and the influence of the dark soul fragment upon his personality had rendered him even more unstable. Severus plunged deep into thoughts and memories, through a doorway of sheer rage.

He had to search deeper than conscious thought. Layers of awareness were between him and his objective, and he had no knowledge of the time that passed. Seeking a specific memory or determining whether a subject was lying was easy—such things were always in the outermost regions of the mind. He was not certain exactly what he would see, going all the way into the core of an individual's being, and he felt an apprehension about it, not unlike a swimmer diving deeper than ever in unknown waters, armed with oxygen but still wary of what hazards might lie in the depths.

The subconscious was a place of dreams and vague impressions, a few repressed memories. A Legilimens always found it difficult to explain to laymen how one navigated the realm of the mind. Thoughts, emotions, memories, and character traits could not be described or distinguished in any way comprehensible to the five senses. One had to experience them to understand—and perhaps that was the crux of a Legilimens's art: the ability to experience the contents of another's mind without being overwhelmed by the foreign thoughts and emotions, to keep oneself separate and whole in the process.

As he moved deeper still, beyond the realm that held the layers of thoughts and open emotions into the essence of Potter's being, he wondered briefly what his subject was experiencing. He knew that a person being Legilimized saw and felt the memories that the Legilimens was searching, but what impression would Potter have of his own subconscious? Of his own soul? Would he recognize what Snape was doing or would it be nonsense to him?

He had gone very far, deeper than he had ever searched another's mind before, when he found himself "hovering," for lack of a better description, above the plane that was his objective: the paradox that was both the roots and core of an individual and the end result and essence of a lifetime of experiences, both conscious and unconscious. The "soul."

And in that place, looking, seeing, feeling it, he found it easier than expected to locate the signs he was seeking. For that matter, he discovered what it was that made the search easier—something he had not begun to imagine possible.

* * *

It was almost four hours later, after dark, that Snape emerged from Harry's room. Ginny, sitting on a hospital wing bed next to Ron and Hermione, perked up. "Professor? Are you all right?"

Snape was swaying slightly and looked exhausted. "Fine," he said, waving aside the concerns of the Headmistress and Mrs. Weasley.

"Find anything?" asked Moody. Snape nodded. "Up to telling us?"

Hermione and the others gathered round once Snape was settled in a chair and received a Pepper Up Potion from Madam Pomfrey. "Is Harry all right?" she asked.

"Asleep. The experience is as draining for the subject as for the Legilimens," Snape said, rubbing his eyes. But he straightened in the seat. "As expected, the perceptible boundary between the two souls is very deep within him. But it was easier than I expected to find it, and I have also determined the cause of Potter's physical and magical illness."

Madam Pomfrey pushed past the others. "How so? What is it?"

Snape sounded as though he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. "He is fighting it. At a level deeper than subconscious, his magic, his physical energy, the very essence of his life is struggling to arrest the spread of darkness from the Horcrux fragment. Energies that normally go to sustain his health are instead devoted to fighting the thing. And so on the surface, he is weakening."

"And you found the boundary between the evil soul and Harry's soul because that's where the fighting is taking place," Hermione concluded, wide-eyed. Snape nodded.

"Potter remains surprisingly untainted by the darkness he has faced." The look on Snape's face suggested that he found the idea of Harry's purity distasteful. Ginny found herself smiling. "The line between the light and the dark is clearer than I expected. But before you celebrate too soon," he added, seeing their delighted expressions, "I should caution you that I could also perceive the darkness's advance." The listeners looked at each other in confusion, and Snape went on, "Make no mistake: the Horcrux fragment is winning. It is consuming him. He is fighting literally with all the strength he possesses, to the point where his physical condition is just short of life-threatening, and still the darkness is advancing. I do not know any explicable reason for the relative strengths of Potter's soul and the Horcrux fragment, but those are the facts of the matter. If we cannot stop its progress and expel it from him, he will fall."

What excitement Ginny and the others had felt at Snape's initial revelations died a quick death as the enormity of what was happening to Harry sank in.

"Professor," Hermione murmured, her face anguished but her voice thoughtful, "the darkness. Is it…covering Harry's soul up, or actually consuming it?" Snape frowned, and she shrugged. "For lack of a better description. The part of Harry's soul that's already been taken over, is it just…gone? Will we be able to get it back?"

Snape figured out what she was trying to say and tilted his head in thought. "Descriptors are problematic. A more apt explanation would be that the 'soul' is not solid, as an object or a landscape would be." He raised his wand and conjured a sphere of misty white light to hover above them. Then he flicked the wand, and a smaller sphere of black smoke joined it, just touching the other.

"The Horcrux was implanted in Potter when the Dark Lord was in the process of trying to create it through his death. It was dormant while it went undiscovered, and while the Dark Lord was alive. Potter attempted a self-exorcism…" A crackling, sizzling mass of golden sparks wrapped themselves around the black smoke and seemed to eat it away, "…but it was incomplete. The fragment remained."

A small spot of blackness remained attached to the white smoke. "Either at this point, or at the point of the Dark Lord's death, the Horcrux remnant sought another means of survival by attaching itself to Potter's soul. And as is the natural course of life, it attempted to grow."

"You make it sound like it's alive," Ron said in confusion.

"There are forms of life, magical and non-magical, that humans have difficulty perceiving. A soul grows and changes with age and experience. It is from the soul that human self-preservation springs. A soul can be injured or destroyed," Snape told him. "It is not at all surprising that what remained of the Horcrux would begin to spread into the host soul, as a parasite or a virus."

He continued with another wave of his wand. The blackness began to expand, mixing with the white light, turning the smoke gray. Ginny felt short of breath. "He is fighting it." In the places where the blackness was swirling, the whiteness brightened, seeming to push it back. "But he is failing." The blackness broke through in places, continuing to spread into the white light, and the darkness expanded.

Snape concluded, "I believe our best, and probably our only chance of stopping the spread, is while some of Potter's soul continues to fight, and while a boundary still exists between the essence of Potter and the essence of the Horcrux. When they are fully merged," the blackness took over and the entire sphere turned dark gray, "there will be no way to tell them apart, and no means of separating them. Ever."

With a wave of Snape's wand, the smoke vanished. Someone stifled a sob behind Ginny, and she realized in surprise that it was Ron.

Hermione's voice cracked as she said, "So…if you can Deep Occlude and separate them," she conjured a smoke ball of her own, "They'll be two distinct things again?" Red sparks sizzled to life at the boundaries between the dark smoke and the light smoke.

Snape nodded. "That is my theory. But the Occlusion will be drawing from Potter's magical power, rather than mine. I can only serve as a subconscious 'guide,' if you will. That is why the effect will be temporary; in time, the power sustaining it will weaken and fail."

Ginny shivered. "If the Occlusion works, what will Harry remember?"

"His mental capacity is unaffected; it is only his personality that has been altered. He should remember everything." There was actually a ghost of a smirk on Snape's face, as though relishing the thought of Harry's horror when he realized what had happened. Ginny wasn't the only one who noticed; Hermione and Ron were glaring at him.

Headmistress McGonagall chose that moment to break in. "I think that is enough for today. We could all do with a rest to refresh our minds for what must come next—and I expect _everyone_," she narrowed her eyes at Snape, then Ron and Hermione, "to get one. Let us adjourn for the evening."

"Professor," Hermione jumped up. "May we see Harry? Just for a minute?"

"He's asleep, Hermione," said Madam Pomfrey.

"I know. I won't wake him, I just want to…see him," Hermione finished in a small voice.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Professor McGonagall, and the Headmistress's face had softened. "Very well. Take care that you don't wake him."

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said softly. He took Hermione's hand, and the two of the walked down the wing with Madam Pomfrey at their heels. McGonagall raised her eyebrows at Ginny, and she hesitated for a moment before deciding to go as well.

Under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eyes, Hermione made her way quietly into the room. Harry was indeed sound asleep, looking as if a ten-wizard duel right there in the room wouldn't wake him up. Like this, Ginny would never have guessed what was inside him. She's seen him this way many times in the past year, heavily asleep, patently exhausted. A lump rose in her throat.

_What if we can't get the Horcrux out?_ The thought she'd desperately tried to hold back shoved its way to the front of her mind, along with an icy wave of fear and grief. _Harry…_

He would die. He would have to die. There was no other way around it if the evil took his soul. Practically-speaking, that would be the moment of Harry's real death, but…her stomach lurched. _STOP IT!_

Hermione bent over the bed and kissed Harry gently on the cheek. When she turned back and joined Ron, tears were sliding down her face. Ron guided her out with an arm around her waist, his own eyes very red. Ginny lingered for a moment beside the door, then quietly went out after them.

* * *

The next morning, a frazzled-looking Tonks and Madam Pomfrey came to breakfast from the Hospital Wing. "What happened?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"Nothing we couldn't handle. Harry woke up and made his displeasure at being forcibly Legilimized known," said Tonks.

"I had to threaten to force-feed him—and I DO know the spells to do it—if he didn't eat breakfast," added Madam Pomfrey. "And it is hardly the first time I have had a tray thrown at me, tending children as long as I have. Don't distress yourselves."

"'arry attacked you?" Fleur gasped.

"Not really," Tonks said. "He's realized that without any magic at his disposal, it doesn't do any good. Let's just say he had a Voldemort-sized tantrum."

Mrs. Weasley laughed aloud, along with several of the others at the table, then abruptly broke down in tears. Hermione felt her own eyes burning, but forced a grin. "That may not have anything to do with Horcruxes. He's always had a dragon temper."

"Good point," said Ron, in a cheerful voice that fooled no one. "Remember fifth year?"

"Vividly," she replied.

"Wasn't a week went by that he wasn't screaming his head off 'bout something," Ron explained to his puzzled-looking parents. "You two must have heard him a few times."

Mrs. Weasley dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, I suppose so. It was only natural." Hermione heard a snort down the table and glared at Snape. Mrs. Weasley said more loudly, "When I think of the stress that boy was under, knowing Voldemort was back, being ridiculed and slandered, afraid for his life…" She shook her head.

Professor Lupin spoke up, "I always thought Harry kept himself together remarkably well, considering." He ignored Snape's disgust. "Oh, he made some foolish judgments, just like all teenagers, but it takes a strong boy to not fly apart at the seams when his life is constantly in danger, either hated, adored, or feared for things beyond his choice or control, never certain of who he can trust." Snape stiffened at that, and Hermione was surprised. No one had missed the jab.

But more than a few eyes were still watering in the room, and Headmistress McGonagall quickly took control. "We will destroy the Horcrux," she said determinedly. "We will free him."

* * *

By that afternoon, Severus felt ready to attempt Occluding Potter's mind against the invading darkness. Moody and the Headmistress accompanied him again, as did the youngest Weasley. Severus did not object to her presence in the room; unlike her brother, she would not panic if things got messy, and unlike Granger, she would not pepper Severus with questions while he was trying to think.

Potter did not get violent this time, although Moody still had to shove him into a chair. Severus and Madam Pomfrey had discussed the boy's condition at length, and were hopeful that the minutes or hours of Occlusion would give Potter's health a chance to recover. On the other hand, that would make dealing with him while he was under the evil's influence much more difficult, the stronger he was.

"I don't know what you're expecting to accomplish," Potter sneered as Severus approached him. He glared over Snape's shoulder at Ginevra Weasley. "Guess I really _can't_ trust anyone."

Severus looked back in spite of himself, and felt his respect for the girl go up another notch when she neither flinched nor looked wounded, but returned Potter's gaze steadily. Minerva was also looking approvingly at the girl, and remarked to Potter, "I think soon you will discover just how many people you _can_ trust, Harry."

The boy snorted. "Look at me," Severus ordered him.

With a heavy sigh, Potter obeyed. "Not like I have a choice, is it?"

"No. _Legilimens!_"

And corporeal reality fell away. Potter made a weak attempt at Occluding, so that it took Severus roughly five seconds longer to break through than before. Hate sizzled all through the boy's psyche—the majority of it for Snape. It made penetrating his mind easy.

He returned to the place in the core of the boy's thoughts and emotions, where a battle was raging between Potter's soul and an intruding force. This time, he went closer, into the heart of the storm—an apt description. Two different energies, one recognizable as Potter's for the ridiculous goodness and youth it exuded, the other the very essence of evil, seething with a cruelty and malice that made Severus seem innocent by comparison. It was not pleasant to place his own mind in the midst of it.

As pure of heart as one might call Harry Potter, the darker emotions within the boy were present even here. It was those aspects of the boy's persona, the hate and anger he could not or would not stifle, that seemed to be giving the Horcrux footholds into his soul. As with Occlumency, uncontrolled emotion was his failing. It prevented him from blocking intruders into his mind or soul.

Severus would have to show him how.

He had placed his own mental presence directly in the midst of the battle, among and between the souls of two people. They were as different as night and day, but it took all of Snape's will to keep his focus as he was buffeted by waves of sheer _power_. Emotion, magic, life energy, physical energy: the source and essence of life and humanity. At the heart of the battle, it was as if he stood at the center of a cyclone of lightning. It seared, sizzled, and roared, pushed and pulled.

Severus pushed back. He was an eye of calm at the center, calm that spread outward to become a wall, pushing the combating energies apart. Or rather, he calmed the energies here in Potter's soul, helping it to form a barrier against the advancing darkness. The darkness remained within Potter, but it was, at least briefly, separated from Potter's identity. Severus began to rise back up, leading the wall's growth. If this worked, the boy would more or less have a temporary split personality, but so long as the personas controlled his body one at a time, it would be possible to communicate with Potter himself. They could not expel the remainder of the Horcrux from him without his cooperation. It was his own soul, his own life energy, his own magic that would have to be the weapon.

It was exhausting, and Severus badly desired to leave this foreign mind and return to himself, but he forced himself to continue Occluding, building the wall up through Potter's subconscious into the conscious awareness, forcing the two identities apart. By the time he reached the outermost regions of the boy's mind, he felt like a swimmer who had dived deeper and longer than he should, desperate to reach the surface and breath again.

And then it was done. Two identities, two souls now inhabited Harry Potter's body, separate at least temporarily. There was no way to know how long the Occlusion wall would hold, for the evil continued to batter it, trying to break back through and continue its destruction of Potter's soul. But at least for now, they could speak to him.

Severus returned to himself with a gasp, dropping backward to a sitting position on the floor in front of Potter's chair. He heard voices behind him, and shook his head as he tried to get his bearings. Moody was helping him up as someone else came into the room, apparently alerted that Snape had finished.

Blinking wearily, he looked at Potter. The boy was trembling, his head hanging, moaning faintly. From the wrenched way Snape's brain felt, Potter undoubtedly needed to recover himself for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder to see Minerva and the Weasley girl stepping forward, watching Potter intently.

Moody was as well. "Did it work?"

Severus nodded. "I think so. The Occlusion held; they're definitely separate."

"Give him a moment," the Headmistress advised. "It can't have been pleasant."

Potter's eyes were squeezed closed, and he shook his head, badly disoriented. After a few minutes, the trembling stopped, and he began drawing deep breaths of air. And then…

The boy raised his head, and his eyes flew open.

"Bloody hell!" Moody shouted.

Severus reeled back in alarm. Harry Potter's eyes blazed with red.

_Oh, shit._

"Well done, Severus," Potter hissed, his voice hoarse and mocking, fraught with madness, his face twisting into an ugly smile. "Very well done!"

There was a thud behind Snape as Ginevra Weasley retreated backwards to press against the opposite wall. The movement attracted the creature's gaze, and his grin widened, baring his teeth. "What's the matter, Ginny? You loved me once. You poured out your soul to me, remember?" His eyes seemed to burn brighter, and Ginevra looked away, her face tight with barely-suppressed panic. "Then again, you've poured your soul out to him too," he—it—observed, tilting its head as though listening to a voice whispering in its ear. "You've loved us both, Ginny. Isn't it a gift to have us both in one handsome body?"

Moody leveled his wand at it. "Shut up!"

The creature with Potter's face merely hissed like a snake and lunged at Snape, laughing. It was a high, cold, cruel laugh, all too familiar to Severus. It froze him completely.

"_STUPEFY!"_

A Stunner from Moody missed and hit the wall, but the one from Minerva's wand caught Potter in the chest, throwing him backwards against the wall to drop limply to the floor. Severus stared at the crumpled, unconscious figure, breathing heavily. He could hear more ragged breathing behind him.

Moody turned the boy over, satisfying himself that he was well Stunned, then looked back at them. Minerva still had not lowered her wand, and Ginevra Weasley remained pressed against the opposite wall, her jaw set as if holding in nausea.

Moody raised his eyebrows at Severus.

"Well. That didn't go quite right, did it?"

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming next week:_** _Snape managed to separate theVoldemort's lingering evilfrom Harry—but the evil has taken control! Our heroes struggle to come to terms with the danger the monster within Harry poses, and with their own inner demons, and Snape battles within his mind to bring back the Harry everyone knows and loves in Chapter Six: Through The Looking Glass!_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**


	6. Through The Looking Glass

**_A/N:_** _Many thanks, dear readers, for your many wonderful reviews! Only one more week, and I will be home for winter holidays with Mum—and plenty of time to write! Can't wait! _

**_Advisory:_** _Just so you know, if any characters seem a bit OOC in this chapter, well…remember, there's a lot of tension built up, and everyone's in for a bit of shock. (Especially Harry.)_

**Chapter Six: Through The Looking Glass**

Headmistress McGonagall hovered Harry back into bed, then turned to glare at Snape and Moody. Ginny realized she was still backed up against the wall, and forced herself to relax.

"What went wrong?"

"My Stunner missed him."

"Don't be impertinent, Alastor. Severus, what went wrong?"

Snape looked utterly exhausted, but drew himself up. "Technically-speaking, nothing." McGonagall blinked, and Moody frowned. "I did succeed in separating Potter's soul from the Horcrux fragment. Doing so gave him, essentially, two personalities. However, I neglected to take into account that at the time of the Occlusion, the darkness was gaining ground. When they were forced apart, the Dark Lord's soul fragment became dominant in his conscious mind."

"Can," Ginny had to clear her throat; her voice was raspy. "Can you reverse it?"

Snape looked at her and nodded. "I believe so." To Ginny's surprise, he spoke frankly, rather than with his usual condescending manner toward Harry's friends.

The Headmistress rubbed her eyes. "You ought to rest first. I could see it took its toll on both of you."

"It is an arduous experience," Snape admitted, moving slowly toward the door. "Mentally and physically."

"What about Pot—what about _him_?" Moody asked, gesturing to the unconscious Harry. Like this, seeming to be asleep, he looked like the Harry that Ginny knew. If he was likely to wake up a monster again, she decided there was no point to her being in the room.

"I'll talk to Poppy," said McGonagall. "We'd probably best keep him sedated. Are you all right, Ginny?" she asked gently.

Ginny blinked as both Snape and Moody looked at her. "Fine," she tried to assure them—but the break in her voice gave her away. The Headmistress smiled understandingly and motioned for Ginny to go on ahead of them. Ginny started to go, then paused. "Is it all right if I tell the others what happened, or do you want me to wait until you come out?"

McGonagall, Snape, and Moody exchanged glances. Moody and Snape both shrugged, then Minerva turned back to her. "I see no reason why you must wait. We can fill in any gaps." Ginny nodded and departed.

* * *

Ron knew the minute his sister appeared from the private wing that the news was not good. The end of the war and this catastrophe with Harry had brought out a side of Ginny that none of her family had seen before. He was certain that Ginny was devastated by what had happened to Harry—as devastated as Ron was, at any rate. But she'd clamped down so tightly on her emotions that the stony, forced calm on her face actually reminded Ron of Harry—when Harry had been going into situations where he half-expected to die. It was unnerving, seeing that expression on the face of his little sister.

Hermione too recognized that look, so she asked very quietly, "What happened?"

"The Occlusion worked," Ginny told them. "But the evil was stronger. So when Harry woke up, he was…"

"Voldemort?" Remus breathed.

Ginny nodded. "Or so much like him that it made no difference."

Ron's mother had a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Harry…"

"Can they undo it?" their dad asked.

"Snape thinks he can," Ginny said. "But getting the Occlusion…he's really exhausted. It looked like it may have worn Harry down too, so it has to wait 'til they're both recovered." She looked back to see Snape, McGonagall, and Moody returning from Harry's room, and let them take over explaining. Hermione gave Ron's arm a squeeze and followed Ginny out of the Hospital Wing. Ron frowned after them, listening to Snape and Moody describing what had happened in Harry's room, but he couldn't concentrate.

Finally, he got up and went after Hermione and Ginny.

Hermione had apparently caught up with her just down the hall. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," came the rather faint reply.

"He looked like Riddle, didn't he?"

After a long silence, Ginny replied, "Not really. It was still Harry's face, just not a look you'd ever see on him, and…his eyes…"

"Red?"

"Mm-hm."

"Are you having flashbacks? You know, reliving it?"

Ginny was leaning against the wall, with her hands against it as if to hold herself up. She closed her eyes and nodded. "'m trying not to. 's not helping." She opened her eyes and looked bleakly at Hermione. "He looked right at me. His eyes, I…it's not something you ever forget." Her voice cracked.

Hermione moved closer to her and said gently, "If you really want me to leave you alone, I'll go. But I don't think you ought to face this alone."

Ginny gave her a wan smile. "Which of those mental health books is that in?"

"I also learn from experience, Ginevra Weasley," Hermione replied.

Ginny abruptly let out a ragged half-sob, half-gasp and threw her arms around Hermione's neck, clinging to the older girl with all her might. Hermione staggered, but held her up. Ron's sister didn't cry outright, but made deep groaning noises as if in terrible pain. "The dreams…coming back…"

"I've got you," Hermione said fiercely as the two of them sank to the floor. "Hold onto me. Just hold on!"

"I can't, it's…eating me up…I can't…"

Ron snapped out of his paralysis and started forward, but Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw him. She gave a quick shake of her head and motioned him away. _Let me handle it,_ she mouthed.

Ron gazed at her and his sister for several moments longer, then sadly admitted that Hermione could probably comfort Ginny better than he ever had been able to. The two of them being girls and all that, but Hermione also understood things about people, like Harry too, that Ron couldn't figure out. She seemed to know instinctively what to do.

So he turned and walked in the other direction, catching the others as they came out of the Hospital Wing and waving them away from the corner where Ginny and Hermione were.

_Ginny understood what was happening to Harry. Hermione understands what's happening to Ginny. They can help each other._

_I never know how to help anyone._

* * *

It was over forty-eight hours before Madam Pomfrey decreed that Snape was sufficiently recovered from his exhaustion to have another go at pulling the real Harry to the surface. During that time, Harry remained sedated in the Hospital Wing, since no one especially wanted to stand face-to-face with the ghost of Voldemort looking out through Harry's eyes.

"You're certain you know how to get Harry in control?" Remus was asking Snape when Ginny came in.

Snape gave the werewolf a withering look. "It may be beyond your comprehension, Lupin, but I have been using Mind Magic for a variety of nefarious purposes since before the boy was born. I am quite capable of suppressing a malevolent personality."

"Are you sure you want to go back in there?" Hermione asked Ginny as she started toward them.

Snape surprised them both by saying, "Miss Weasley's presence might be useful. I expect she is best equipped to determine whether it is Potter and _only_ Potter who has appeared."

"If it works," said Mrs. Weasley, "how soon can we see him?"

"Depends on how he's feeling," said Madam Pomfrey.

"We may expect a good deal of histrionics once the boy realizes what has happened," Snape said. "So I suggest that you not enter the room unless you're prepared to handle a hysterical teenager."

"I'll take that over Voldemort any day," Ron muttered.

Ginny pulled a face. "I'll be sure to come get you if Harry wakes."

"He's going to be so upset," Hermione murmured.

Ginny nodded, remembering how she'd felt when she started to fear she was attacking people during her first year. The thought of someone—or something—controlling your actions, making you do horrible things…one of the most awful fates imaginable.

Hermione patted her arm, and Ginny smiled wearily at her. Hermione had been a help after the disastrous first attempt, holding Ginny until she pulled herself together. There weren't many reassurances that wouldn't ring false, but just the knowledge that Ginny was being embraced and understood kept her from flying apart inside.

With that thought, Ginny followed Snape, Moody, and Professor McGonagall back to Harry's room. The Headmistress made her wait outside while Moody and Snape roused Harry. She didn't mind; she didn't want to see Voldemort in control of him again. After a few moments, the door opened again, and Moody motioned them in.

Snape was once again kneeling in front of Harry, staring into his blank eyes. Ginny stayed back against the wall beside the Headmistress, who kept a comforting hand on her shoulder. Madam Pomfrey appeared in the doorway, watching and absently wringing her hands.

Time dragged by without notice, and Ginny jumped when Snape ended the session, breaking eye contact and sagging back. As before, Harry groaned and slumped forward, disoriented from having his mind tampered with.

It seemed to last forever as Harry shook his head and tried to sit up. Ginny held her breath.

He raised his head. Large green eyes blinked in hazy confusion at the people in the room, settling on Ginny. She still did not breathe.

"What…" Harry's voice rasped badly, and he cleared his throat. "What…_happened_?"

A deep, gasping sob wrenched itself from Ginny's throat before she knew it, and she covered her mouth in attempt to stifle it. That confused Harry even more, as he looked to the others in the room for explanation—but Snape, Moody, McGonagall, and Pomfrey were all watching Ginny too, waiting for her verdict.

"It's you," she sobbed, humiliating herself further by having to hold onto a chair to keep herself from collapsing. "Harry, it's Harry!"

Several people sighed at once, and Harry looked on in bafflement as Madam Pomfrey rushed over to examine him, and Professor McGonagall took Ginny's arms. "Calm yourself, Miss Weasley. Calm down," she whispered in Ginny's ear. "This is going to be difficult for him."

"I know, I know," Ginny choked out, and managed to get herself under control by focusing on Harry. She wiped her face quickly and got up, moving closer to Harry as Snape and Moody hovered behind them. "Are you okay?"

Harry shook his head again. "I don't know…what's…"

"Potter," Moody said. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uhh…" Harry's brow furrowed. Ginny's heart started to pound. "Talking to someone in here, only…it's all weird, like I wasn't really…" He looked at Ginny in bewilderment. "I said…something, and you were…what _happened?_ I can't remember things right..."

Ginny bit her lip and moved closer as Harry began to shake, the first shadows of horror creeping into his face as all color drained away. Snape had said he would remember everything, and it was clear that that was true. Harry was recalling the things he had done, and none of it made sense to him. Except that it was horrible.

"Ginny," Harry breathed, his face becoming pinched as if in pain. "Whaddid I…I can't have…" She saw it the moment Harry realized what had happened. Utter panic flashed across his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut, balling his fists in anguish and burst out, "No! No…"

As Madam Pomfrey tried to calm him down, Ginny grabbed his hand. "It wasn't your fault!" she said over Harry's cries of denial. "Harry, it wasn't your fault! It wasn't you; it was him! It's going to be okay; we're going to get it out!"

"Oh no, no…I hurt…I—" Harry's eyes flew open. "Get away! I'm not—you can't, he's in me—"

"Stop it, Harry! Harry, listen to me!" Ginny shouted, grabbing his arms, but he tried to wrench away from her.

"I'm sorry!" he babbled. "I didn't mean—you can't be here, you have to get away from me!"

"POTTER!" Snape roared, all but knocking Madam Pomfrey and Ginny aside and grabbing Harry's shoulders. Harry froze, wide-eyed and silent. "Calm…down…NOW! Every moment you let your panic control you increases the chance of the _Horcrux_ regaining control of you! Now contain yourself!"

As Snape let him go and backed away, Harry remained silent, but still trembled in shock and horror. Ginny came back to him, as did Madam Pomfrey, but he flinched away. She caught his chin when he tried to look away, his face a mask of shame. "I'm not afraid," she swore, looking him in the eyes. "Listen to me," she said urgently. "It was not…your…fault. You had no way of knowing what that thing was doing to you." She raised her hand from his chin and stroked back his messy black hair from his face. "It wasn't your fault," she repeated softly.

Harry's eyes brimmed, and he swallowed hard. "I could've hurt someone," he whispered. His eyes lost focus as he searched his confused memories. "I could've…I did!" His eyes widened. "Oh god, I did." He looked at her in horror. "Ginny, I…"

"It's going to be okay," she promised him, and silently prayed that it was true. "We're going to get that thing out of you."

"I'm scared," he murmured, looking at her with a desperate, hopeless expression she'd never seen on him before.

She hadn't been aware of the teachers talking amongst themselves behind her, but the Headmistress suddenly said, "Ginny, my dear, I'm sorry, but Madam Pomfrey needs room to work, and we must talk with Harry. We do not know how long this Occlusion will hold."

Harry, if possible, went even whiter. Ginny grabbed both of his hands and squeezed them hard between hers. "I'll stay in the room, or be just outside, okay? You have to try to stay calm. We're all here, and you're home. We'll get through this." She squeezed his hands once more and let him go, getting to her feet.

Madam Pomfrey ushered Harry from the chair to the bed, but he said suddenly, "Wait! Ron and Hermione, they're—they're here…right?" He looked distracted as he tried to navigate his shared memories.

"They're here," Ginny confirmed, ignoring McGonagall's warning look.

"Can I see them? Just for a minute, please," Harry said urgently. "I have to—have to talk to them…"

Ginny looked hard at McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. The Headmistress glanced at Harry's desperate face and relented. "Fetch them, if you would, Miss Weasley."

Ginny bolted out the door and sprinted all the way back to the open wing. Everyone jumped up. "Did it work?" Hermione cried.

"Yes, but we don't know for how long. He wants you two, get back there!" Hermione and Ron didn't need to be told twice, and they tore past Ginny while she raised a hand to forestall the others. "Don't go now! He's completely shook up and they have to talk to him and Ron and Hermione only have a second to see him. But it worked!" she called over her shoulder and ran back to Harry's room.

She reached the door to see Harry wrapped in Hermione's arms while Ron clutched his free arm. "I'm sorry!" Harry was babbling. "I didn't mean to cut you off, I swear, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay it's okay it's okay," Hermione was gasping, close to tears.

"It wasn't your fault, mate," Ron said thickly. "Everyone knows it wasn't; nobody blames you."

Released by Hermione, Harry looked back and forth between the two of them as if trying to memorize their faces, and Madam Pomfrey seized the chance to step in. "I'm sorry, dears, but we've a great deal to do and uncertain time to do it. I must try to get Harry's strength up."

The two reluctantly headed back toward Ginny. "We'll be here," Ron promised as Harry watched them go. "We'll be back. Just hang on, mate. Hang on."

They hesitated by the door as Moody was asking Snape, "How will we know if the Occlusion starts to fail?"

"Potter will most likely be the first to know," Snape said. Harry went rigid. "If you experience any disorientation, be certain to speak up." Harry nodded mutely.

"Once it fails, will you be able to restore it?" the Headmistress asked.

Snape was looking thoughtfully at Harry, who was staring wide-eyed back at him. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. "It may be possible to prevent Potter and the Horcrux from merging again…if the Horcrux personality is permitted to become dominant again for periods of time. The battle for Potter's soul is one for control…if the Horcrux fragment is controlling his mind and body, even temporarily, it will seem to have accomplished its objective, and might not attack the Occlusion."

"Switching back and forth instead of trying to merge," Hermione mused. Snape shot her a look as if asking why she was still here, but then nodded. "How would you do that?"

"By bringing Potter's own personality to the surface, I have effectively cut the Horcrux off through a secondary barrier of Occlusion. If that barrier becomes weaker than the barrier between the two personalities…"

"The Horcrux will concentrate on that rather than trying to merge with Harry. An easier route to dominance," Hermione finished. Snape scowled, but she folded her arms and met his gaze coolly; they all knew she was right. Ginny smiled.

"But what happens when that…thing takes over me again?" Harry asked, sounding as if he was finally coming out of the initial shock.

"If we time it right, we could sedate him just as the other personality takes control," Madam Pomfrey said, patting Harry's arm apologetically.

"I'd rather you Stunned me before that," Harry muttered. Ginny heard Ron let his breath out in a rush, and she grinned in relief. Now _that_ sounded like the Harry they remembered.

"Will that be a problem if he is unconscious or asleep while the Horcrux is dominant?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Snape shook his head. "I do not believe so. Sedation would be preferable, since sleep is a natural function of the body no matter what personality controls it." He gave Harry a challenging look, but Harry dropped his eyes.

"Do whatever you have to do," he muttered. "I don't want to go back to that…thing again. I don't want to be both again. At least if I'm switching back and forth, part of the time I'd be myself."

"And we need you yourself so we can plan how to attack that disgusting thing," the Headmistress said firmly, stepping past Snape to pat Harry's shoulder. "You are no longer facing it alone, Harry." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Professor McGonagall turned to Snape and the others. "Step aside now so Madam Pomfrey can work. Harry, if you start to feel disoriented or strange in any way, tell us at once. You three go on. No doubt your families are wondering how Harry is doing, and we haven't time to explain. Severus, if you would, consider how we might implement this…switching process?"

Snape nodded and followed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny out the door. The three of them waved reassuringly at Harry as they went, though it didn't have much of an impact on him. "I've never seen him so scared," Hermione murmured.

"_I've_ never been so scared," Ron replied. Ginny rubbed his back.

"Poor Harry. I don't know if I'd like that switchover thing better than just one hybrid personality. Losing control of my mind all of a sudden, having to get knocked out…" she shuddered.

Hermione stopped in her tracks.

"What's the matter?" Ron demanded.

Snape had been walking well behind them, and he paused as Hermione turned to look at him. "Now what, Miss Granger?"

Hermione ignored his brusque tone. "Professor…have you ever heard of behavioral conditioning?"

* * *

"Behavioral _what?_" the twins demanded as Hermione and Snape discussed the idea in the outer Hospital Wing.

"There are theories in Muggle psychology that you could get a person to do something by planting a sort of command in their mind. When the person heard the right word or saw the right thing, the command would be triggered, and they do what you wanted," Hermione explained.

"I find it astonishing that Muggles could dream up such a thing," Snape muttered, perusing one of the books on Legilimency.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Muggles aren't as ignorant as you think. They've found explanations for what happens in a person's mind too—just a different way of explaining it. Magical and life energy in the mind is all electric signals and hormones in the brain, to Muggles."

"So have they managed to do this…conditioning?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Well, some people think the military does it, but—never mind. No, generally not, because the scientists still haven't figured out how to translate the electricity into a command the brain understands. We can make electricity, just not the mind-language."

Mr. Weasley looked delighted. "Fascinating, how Muggles make up for lack of magic."

There was a snort from Snape, but Hermione ignored him. "Anyway, I was thinking that with Legilimency, it might be possible." They had explained Harry's condition and the plan to keep the two souls separate by letting the personalities switch dominance back and forth. "If we could put a command in Harry's mind for himto go to sleep when the souls switch places…"

"He falls asleep each time the Horcrux takes over and sleeps right through it!" Tonks crowed.

Remus was smiling in relief. "You never cease to amaze, Hermione."

"Definitely brilliant, love, brilliant," the twins chorused, stepping to either side of Hermione and giving her a smacking kiss, one twin on one cheek.

"Get off," she muttered, blushing. "We still have to figure out how to actually…_implant _the command."

"And would that…hurt Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly.

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "If it doesn't work out, we can always just give him a Sleeping Draught when his personality starts to change. Or a Stunner if we absolutely have to. Even that wouldn't really _hurt_ him, just rather unpleasant to use that much force."

Snape slapped the book closed, and she looked at him. "Find something?"

"I was not looking for anything specific," he replied. "Your theory is sound, but whether it is practicable remains to be seen. There is also the question of setting the proper timing." He glanced back toward the private rooms and rose. "Before that, I must ensure that the Occlusions are properly placed so that the personalities shift rather than merge. I will discuss your suggestion with the Headmistress and Madam Pomfrey."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione called after him, but he didn't acknowledge. She hadn't really expected him to.

"'e is on our side," Fleur remarked. "But still 'e is terribly disagreeable."

"Don't think he knows how to be anything else," Bill muttered. She put an arm around him.

Mrs. Weasley was gazing back down the ward as well. "Poor Harry. He must be so frightened."

Mr. Weasley saw Ginny's expression and put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. She patted his hand. "I was lucky that I never remembered the things I'd done when I was possessed. Harry does. He remembers doing it, but not why, and he knows the thoughts weren't his. It's awful and confusing."

"We've all told him it's not his fault, but…" Ron shrugged. "You know him. He still blames himself."

"Other than realizing he's had a piece of Voldemort taking him over, how is he?" Tonks asked.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, then at Ginny. She grimaced. "About the same as he was before, I guess. Still worn down, but Madam Pomfrey thinks he'll heal a bit if his soul isn't fighting with the Horcrux."

"Think it'll help if he's switching back and forth instead?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I imagine it would," Hermione said. "I'll ask Snape." She got up and headed down the wing back to Harry's room.

When she arrived, Madam Pomfrey and Moody were coming out. "Nothing more I can do until he comes back," Madam Pomfrey was saying.

Hermione's stomach lurched. "What happened?"

"Snape changed the Occlusion so he'd shift between personalities rather than merge all right," Moody said. "But it triggered the shift."

"Is he okay?"

"Yeh, but he's out."

Hermione sighed. She'd hoped to see him again, if only just for a minute—that was partly why her question had been so urgent. "I was wondering, do you think it'll weaken him to be switching back and forth as it did when he and the Horcrux were merged?"

Madam Pomfrey frowned. "An excellent question, Hermione, I've no idea. Severus?" Snape came to the doorway and scowled at the sight of Hermione—which was his usual reaction to her, so she paid it no notice. "Do you expect Harry's strength to improve now that his soul is no longer directly in contact with the Horcrux fragment?"

"I believe so. At the very least, the ease with which the two souls can displace each other will mean less of Potter's energy will be expended fighting it before the shift occurs. That should result in some physical improvement."

"Good," Hermione sighed. "He looks terrible. How long do you think it'll be before he shifts back?"

"You will know when he awakens." Snape smirked at her. "I have seen to it that the shifts will correspond to a relatively normal sleep cycle." Hermione blinked. "Ergo, the shift will be triggered by his return or loss of consciousness."

"So when he's awake, he's Potter. When he falls asleep, that's when the Horcrux controls," Moody concluded.

Snape's smug expression dared Hermione to complain, so she turned away and tightly addressed Madam Pomfrey. "I wonder if we should tell him that. He may not want to go to sleep."

"He won't have any choice in that regard," Madam Pomfrey said. "He needs rest. I'll Potion him if necessary."

"Now that that's settled," Snape sneered, and walked off.

Professor McGonagall came out of the room and looked from Snape's back to Hermione's cross face. "I take it that was your idea."

She gritted her teeth and shook off her irritation. _It's not important. All that matters is helping Harry._ "It doesn't matter. Can I see him for a minute?" The Headmistress nodded and let her pass.

Harry was indeed dead to the world, and waking him unexpectedly wasn't a risk Hermione wanted to take. She sat down in a chair beside the bed, gazing at his dark, tousled head as if it would provide her with answers. She hoped he wasn't dreaming. Sleeping with a remnant of Voldemort in control of his mind would probably give him worse nightmares than ever.

The Headmistress came in and stood next to Hermione. "How long will he sleep?" Hermione asked.

"It's natural sleep, so until he's rested," McGonagall said.

"So probably at least a week," Hermione half-joked. "I guess I'll leave him to it." She stood up and forced herself to refrain from touching him, but did whisper, "Wake up soon." She avoided the Headmistress's kind gaze, because she didn't want to start crying again. They all needed to keep their wits if they wanted to help Harry keep his.

* * *

Hermione Granger's prediction that Potter would sleep for a week was not that far off the mark, Severus had to admit. He busied himself during the time researching the self-exorcism and other expelling methods, trying to determine the best way to rid the boy's soul of the Horcrux. As he'd suspected, no matter what charm or invocation he considered, Potter's active participation was required. It was the boy's body, the boy's soul that was under siege. Therefore, it was the boy's magic that would ultimately be the key.

Over the course of almost six days, Potter did wake a few times, but he was so groggy there was little time for Madam Pomfrey to do more than force some Restorative Potions into him before he dropped off again. The Order sat shifts at the boy's bedside, while everyone else kept a de facto vigil out in the main Hospital Wing. It was late afternoon, five days after Severus had separated the boy's personality from the fragment that Tonks came down the corridor from Potter's room.

"Harry's up."

Severus glanced up from his work as half the people in the room jumped up. "It would not be advisable to stampede into the room," he observed.

All but one redhead in the room glowered at him, but Tonks agreed, "Madam Pomfrey's shoving breakfast down his throat at the moment, and Minerva and Moody want to talk to him. Give them a few minutes." To Severus, she said, "They would like you to come down, though."

When Snape entered the room, Potter was sitting up in bed, finishing his food under the watchful gaze of Madam Pomfrey. He seemed somewhat improved; his eyes were less shadowed, and he had an appetite. He stiffened at the sight of Severus, but then lifted his chin with the arrogant little Potter challenge pose that Severus remembered. As much as he loathed it, Severus supposed it was a good sign.

"Mr. Potter. I trust you are feeling improved?"

"A bit, yes."

_Sullen brat. He should be on his knees thanking me._ Minerva broke the staring contest. "Perhaps before Harry is swamped with visitors, we should discuss what the next steps should be."

Severus was spitefully gratified to see the boy turn pale. But then Potter sighed. "Sure. Where do we start?"

"I could use more information about the attempted exorcism if you don't mind being a little more _forthcoming_ this time."

"Oh, Severus!" Minerva chided.

Potter blinked. "This time—oh." He blushed. "Right. I got the ritual from a book in the library—'Purifications and Expulsions,' or something like that. Restricted Section."

Severus nodded. "I know it. Go on."

"I just…did what the book described, really. It was a little weird, the candles and herbs and things…"

Impatiently, Severus pushed. "_Which_ ingredients you used would have impacted the outcome."

Potter glowered at him, but then looked away thoughtfully. "Uhh…cloves, incense, elfweed, and toadstools from a fairy ring. The oil was pure olive oil. Easier to find than dragon oil, and the book said it was an acceptable variety."

"What form of space did you create?" Minerva asked.

"Pentagon. Five candles, connected by wood shafts at the base."

"What kind of wood?"

"Holly," Potter said. "It's the same wood as my wand." He shrugged, looking sheepish. Severus was surprised; that factor was a good one to consider, even if Potter clearly was unaware of the implications of using a wood already bound to him. That might well be the reason the boy had not died in the attempt.

"What type of candles?" Minerva asked.

"Beeswax, with the rods connected inside the candle bases."

Severus shook his head. "I'm impressed, Potter, you never showed that much precision in class."

"Severus!"

"Maybe I could have if I wasn't being constantly insulted and sabotaged, _sir!_" Potter retorted.

"Harry, Severus, enough!" Minerva growled. "Let us _try_ to keep ourselves productive!"

"Did you burn holly for your fire as well?" Moody asked.

Potter nodded. "And I followed the book exactly for all the incantations and burning the herbs."

"The fact that you are here and the Dark Lord is dead proves that your preparations of the ritual were sufficient," Severus said. "I am more interested in what you saw during the attempt."

Potter scowled. "There were people. People I knew, lots of them. A big crowd, and I was walking through them. They were all just watching me, and I could hear voices, but not who was speaking. Took me awhile to find him. He was Tom Riddle, when he was sixteen. I found him on the edge of the crowd, and…just told him to get out and leave me alone."

Severus was taken aback. It was said that every person who undertook a Seeing into their own soul saw something different, but Potter's was the only firsthand account he had ever heard. And the boy's experience was not what Severus would have expected for an inner vision of one's soul.

"What happened next?" Moody asked, sounding fascinated.

"He laughed. He said I was just like him, and that he belonged here—in my soul, he meant. I called out, to Ron and Hermione. They came up behind me and told him to go, that he didn't belong in me. Then Sirius, and Professor Lupin, and my parents, and…other people. My friends and…people I loved. All around me."

Seeing the boy about to lose himself in the memory, Severus said impatiently, "Then what?"

"There was…this light. It was white and really hot. It came from them and me; it hurt, but when I looked at them, it was easier, and it got stronger. He had a light too; it was red. I pushed him back, and the lights…they were like fire. I was burning but I kept pushing, and I heard him screaming. Then I woke up in the circle." Potter dropped his eyes. "The next day, I killed him."

"That soon?" Snape asked in surprise. With all the ferocity Potter had exhibited in that battle, it was inconceivable that he had survived an almost-successful self-exorcism the day before.

"His choice, not mine," Potter said dryly. "I was captured, remember?"

_Oh._ He'd forgotten that. Captured and tortured. "Was the exorcism the reason you were captured?"

"I think so," Potter said. "I think Voldemort may have felt it somehow when I got that Horcrux. He seemed a bit more ticked off at me than usual when they brought me to him. When they turned up, I couldn't even disapparate."

"He was particularly angry that morning," Severus recalled. "But he never mentioned the Horcruxes to the Death Eaters."

"Didn't want you getting ideas, probably."

"Harry!" Minerva scolded—far more gently than she'd scolded Severus, he was irritated to observe. "So your soul manifested in your mind as all the people you care for surrounding you?"

"No, that couldn't be it," Potter said. "I think it was more general than that, not love determining who I saw."

"What makes you so certain?" Snape demanded.

Potter shot him a withering look. "_You_ were there."

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming next week:_** _The Order now has their Harry back, and Harry joins the efforts to figure out how to expel the Horcrux fragment from his soul. But the lingering remnant of Voldemort is not about to go quietly, and there is strife among members of the Order as well as inside Harry's soul in Chapter Seven: What Eyes Cannot See!_

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	7. What Eyes Cannot See

**_A/N:_** _As always, manymanymany thanks for your splendiferous reviews! I am home at last for the holidays, happily nestled in an armchair with my laptop (next to Mum, who is nestled in HER armchair, with HER laptop! Ahhh, I'll be home for Christmas!) Didn't get as much schoolwork done as I'd planned on (lazy law student that I am) but got plenty of writing done and plan to do plenty more. To my "Curse of the White Sword" readers: come hell or high water, I intend to have an update for you by Christmas! Your wait is almost over! Thank you billions for your incredible patience! And now, to my Potterverse readers, I present to you_

**_Special Announcement:_** _I have partaken of fanfiction dot net's new forum feature! Now you can ask me questions, trade theories and speculation, and debate plotlines with me and with each other! I also have threads to offer advice on everything from writing to law school to life in general (I'm a lawyer; I love giving advice)! Stop by and say hi! I shall also post responses to Frequently Asked Questions by readers, and perhaps even a preview or two of future chapters of my story! The address is www dot fanfiction dot net slash f slash 169252 slash (also linked from my author page.)_

**Chapter Seven: What Eyes Cannot See**

After days of worry and waiting, the rest of Harry's friends finally got the chance to visit him. Madam Pomfrey admonished them all repeatedly not to wear her patient out, but Harry insisted he wanted to see them all.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Remus Lupin came first. Harry was a little nervous about seeing them all, but everyone repeated the litany that what had happened under the Horcrux's influence was not his fault. Mrs. Weasley's quiet gentleness was a surprise, given her usual reaction to crises, and to Harry's horror, it gave him a very persistent lump in his throat. Fortunately, she didn't require him to talk while she held him, in that motherly fashion that filled him with longing for something he'd never had.

By the time she stopped hugging him, it was hard to look at Mr. Weasley or Lupin. "Chin up, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, patting his shoulder. "It's thanks to you that the Order doesn't have to worry about Voldemort anymore." He bent down, forcing Harry to look at his face. "We're not going to let him keep hurting you after his death. All of us are working together on this."

"Thanks," he managed to say. Lupin came to sit down on the bed beside him. "Nice to see you, Professor."

"I think we're long overdue for you to call me Remus, Harry," Lupin said. Harry stared, and he smiled. "If you like."

"_Molly, you are not the only one here who cares for Harry!" _he had said. Harry had assumed he meant Sirius. "Yeah," he murmured. "I would…Remus."

Remus put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a little squeeze that reminded Harry of the way Sirius had hugged him. "You know, I'm sorry I wasn't closer to you after Sirius died. You understand why, don't you?"

"You were undercover for the Order," Harry said in confusion.

"But that wasn't the only reason. One of the provisions in Dolores Umbridge's anti-werewolf legislation is a restriction on people with my condition being in any extended contact with underage wizards." Remus smiled ruefully. "It was Albus's advice that I keep my distance until you were seventeen. It would be easier on both of us, because Albus couldn't be sure that the Ministry wouldn't find out if I…was as close to you as I wanted to be." Harry blinked against the sudden burning in his eyes. "I wanted to be there for you after it happened, maybe tell you a few better stories about your parents and Sirius than the ones you got from…certain people," Remus winked.

Harry had to grin. "I would've liked that too."

"There's going to be plenty of time for that now," Mrs. Weasley told him. "Now that you're of age, you're perfectly within your rights to tell the Ministry to sod…off!"

"You really think there'll be time?" Harry said before he could stop himself.

Remus squeezed his shoulders harder until Harry met his determined gaze. "Yes. There will be. A lifetime, Harry, _your_ lifetime. And there are over two dozen people right here in this castle who intend to make sure that it is a long and happy one. You are going to be free of this," he whispered.

Harry hastily looked down, blinking hard. "I just don't know what to do. I feel stronger, but…dunno if I'll be strong enough." He forced a smile. "It hurt a lot the first time. Madam Pomfrey says I was lucky the exorcism didn't kill me before Voldemort could."

"Luck has nothing to do with it, Harry Potter," Mr. Weasley said. "You may not believe it, but those of us who have watched you grow up since you started at Hogwarts all knew long ago that you were a young man of extraordinary gifts. And only some of those gifts have to do with magical power. You survived everything that Voldemort threw at you because you were _more _than strong enough." He chucked Harry lightly under the chin. "Now buck up there. You might as well enjoy yourself before you and Severus have to get back to work!"

Harry groaned loudly, and they all laughed. "I was wondering, now that the Horcrux is under control, can I get out of this room?" Remus and the Weasleys exchanged confused glances. "I mean, maybe into the main Hospital Wing or something. I'm just a bit tired of the same four walls."

Remus shrugged. "I'll ask Madam Pomfrey. Don't see why not."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey saw no reason not to let Harry come out into the open wing, but Snape was against it. "The Occlusion is not foolproof. Potter should be confined until the Horcrux is removed."

"Funny, you were pretty confident in it before," Ron said.

Hermione elbowed him. "Don't make this harder," she hissed. To Snape and Madam Pomfrey, she suggested, "If you're worried about…security, why not just ward the wing so he can't leave? At least this way he'll have a little more space, not to mention some natural light," she pointed out.

"True," said Headmistress McGonagall. "He'd be more comfortable out here, I think."

"To ward the entire Hospital Wing for the sake of Harry Potter's _comfort_ is an absurd waste of valuable time," Snape insisted. "Let him stay in that room; he'll live. And let us concentrate on more important matters than—"

"You bloody bastard!" Ron burst out, shoving past Hermione before she could stop him. To Professor McGonagall, he said, "You know, if there were two Potions that'd both work equally well, but one would hurt more, I guarantee you he'd give _that _one to Harry!"

"I see no value in coddling a melodramatic brat when there's work to be done," Snape shot back.

"Ron, no!" Ginny shouted, as she joined Hermione in trying to keep Ron from hexing Snape.

"He didn't mean me, he meant Harry! The man's a sadist; I still say he's done more harm than good!"

"Ron, you know Professor Snape's help is essential—" Tonks began.

"Oh, now he's a Professor again, at the same school where he killed the Headmaster—"

"QUIET!" the Headmistress roared. To Ron, she said, "Enough, Mr. Weasley. We're all well-aware of your misgivings about Severus, but he has proven himself trustworthy." To Snape, "And yes, Severus, Harry's comfort _is_ a concern to us that we _will_ take into account as we proceed. And you will not waste time by antagonizing the boy; he has enough to worry about." And to Tonks and Moody, "How long will it take you to ward this wing?"

"Not long," said Tonks.

"Fleur and I can help," Bill added. "We've both done this work before."

"With four of us, maybe twenty minutes," said Moody.

Hermione thought Minerva looked rather smug as she returned her gaze to Snape before telling them, "Carry on, then."

Snape made a disgusted noise, turned to go, and froze.

"It might not do you any good."

Everyone whirled toward the source of the voice, to see none other than Harry himself standing at the entrance to the private wing. He looked a little unsteady on his feet and was leaning against the wall, but grinned sheepishly. "Don't look at me, I didn't drop the wards!"

"What…on…_Earth_!" Madam Pomfrey sputtered.

Moody aimed his wand in Harry's direction, making Harry flinch and several of the others exclaim in protest. "Relax, I'm not going to hex him. Hmph. Wards're still up."

Professor McGonagall put her hands on her hips. "Harry Potter, there are moments when I am quite certain you do the impossible just to irritate everyone."

"How _did _you do that?" Ron demanded.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. I've seen light from the windows when you come in and out, so I figured maybe I could just open the door and let it in without the wards stopping me. It worked, and then I was standing in the doorway, and…" he shrugged again. "I walked out. Nothing happened, so I kept walking."

"And here you are," Madam Pomfrey sighed theatrically. "Well, come sit down before you fall down. I've warned you not to overexert yourself."

"Sorry," Harry said (looking unrepentant), as Ron and Ginny ran to usher him to one of the beds.

"Should we still bother warding out here?" Tonks asked the Headmistress.

"Yes, do go ahead. No offense, Mr. Potter."

"None taken," Harry said, but he pulled a face when Moody pointed his wand at him.

"Just double-checking your magical—AHA! So _that's _how you managed it, you sneaky little devil!"

"What? What'd I do?" Harry exclaimed.

Tonks also pointed her wand at Harry. "Your magical signature's different from what it was when we set the wards. The room was warded not to let in or out anyone with that magical signature, but when yours changed…" she waved a hand at him. "Must be all this Occluding and playing about with your magical core."

"So you can't ward him in?" Ron asked.

"Maybe not," Tonks mused. To Harry, she explained, "I bet your signature changes whenever the Horcrux is in control or if they merge. Three different personalities—Harry, the Horcrux, and the two of them merged. Three different signatures. Makes it hard to keep tabs on you."

"Uh, sorry?" Harry said, and they all laughed.

"We'll ward using the signature from the room—when they were merged—and Harry's signature now," said Bill. "And next time he's asleep, we'll get the third one."

"Right, then. Let's get on with it," said Moody.

Hermione saw Harry stifle a yawn. "Tired?"

"No!" Harry said, a little too quickly.

Madam Pomfrey heard them. "I told you, Mr. Potter, you rest whenever your body needs it."

Harry grimaced. "I know, I just…"

Ron came and sat on the edge of Harry's bed. "Take it easy, mate. Nothing'll happen."

"Dunno if it's the Horcrux, but I'm having weird dreams," Harry admitted.

"Ooh," Hermione said sympathetically. "Maybe we can do something about that. Madam Pomfrey? Could Harry have Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

"I don't see why not," the Mediwitch replied. She bustled off and returned with a bottle and a cup. "Here we are." Harry took it gratefully. "Now, to bed with you. I want you getting as much rest as possible."

"Much as I can get with someone else rattling around in my brain," Harry muttered, but drank the Potion. Then he yawned more heavily. "Guess I'll see you guys later?"

"Bet on it," said Ron. Hermione grinned and took Ron's hand as Harry drifted off.

* * *

After another day of heavy research, Severus reported to the Order of his findings. "We have few options open to us. Spells or charms for expelling a deep curse or even a malevolent possession will be ineffective. Those magics cannot distinguish between two souls."

"You're thinking about another exorcism, aren't you?" said Granger.

"It remains the best, and possibly the only option," Severus told them.

"Wait a moment, Harry barely survived the last one," Tonks protested. "And that was before the Horcrux started…expanding, or whatever it's doing."

"Alternative methods of accessing and removing intruding magic from the soul are limited to begin with," Severus replied. "Only a human mind will be able to comprehend the difference between the two souls sufficiently to remove the Horcrux fragment."

Moody glowered at him. "And the fact that the method you're pushing is by _far_ the most dangerous to Potter?"

"That's the question I was gonna ask," Ron Weasley muttered.

Severus regarded them all in disgust. "If I intended to kill Potter, I have had ample opportunity to do so _without_ risking my own capture. In the amount of time I spent alone with him, I assure you I could have devised any number of delightfully slow and painful demises."

Several of the Weasleys growled, Granger eyed Severus warily, and even the Weasley girl glared at him. Potter, interestingly enough, was the only one who did not display any reaction as he sat solemnly between Ron and Ginevra Weasley. Granger folded her arms. "Instead of informing us for the twenty-seventh time how much you relish the _thought _of hurting Harry, how about explaining this exorcism plan of yours?"

"You are sufficiently book-wise, Miss Granger, you tell me," he sneered. "How would you go about distinguishing two identical magical energies whose sole identifying characteristic is purely a matter of subjective human perception?"

"I can't even pronounce that!" muttered one of the Weasley twins.

Granger glared at Severus, but translated for the others' sakes. "If you put two souls side by side, no matter how evil one is or how good the other one, magic alone can't tell them apart. Souls, minds, people, we're all made up of magical energies. We can distinguish people by their appearance, but not a soul—you can only identify it two ways: its energy or…your own judgment. Good, bad, wrong, right."

"How can you _tell_ that?" Ron Weasley demanded.

Granger looked at Severus, but he simply raised his eyebrows. _You enjoy parading your wisdom about, Miss Know-It-All, YOU explain it to them._ Finally, visibly gritting her teeth, she turned to them. "Only through a magical Seeing, a ritual that lets a witch or wizard perceive magical energies that normally wouldn't be visible to the senses. Muggles call them séances, think they're a way to contact the spirits of the dead, but that's only one kind. Another kind…lets you see into a person's soul." She shot Severus another resentful glare.

They were all startled when Potter spoke up. "I know." He didn't look at Snape—come to think of it, he wasn't looking at anyone. "And an exorcism is a kind of Seeing. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to get rid of the Horcrux." He sighed, still staring at the floor. "He's right. I didn't want to try exorcising it, but that was the only way I could come up with."

"Harry, why didn't you come to the Order for help?" Tonks breathed. "If one of us had seconded, the risk would have been much less—"

"—To me, yes, but not to you!" Potter cut in. Severus couldn't deny being impressed; the brat had—for once—done his research. "There's a risk of the malignant force being exorcised crossing over into the exorcist. Only someone…" he glanced at Severus and muttered sulkily, "Only someone very adept in Mind Magic could shield himself against it."

The others exchanged uncomfortable glances, and Minerva asked quietly, "Poppy, do you think Harry is in good enough condition for a second attempt?"

Madam Pomfrey frowned. "I have serious doubts. He's much improved, but definitely not to full strength, and even a guided exorcism will be extremely taxing. There's a risk to them both." She looked reluctantly at Minerva. "Then again, I suppose we knew any choice would be."

"What can we do?" Lupin asked. "There must be some way we can help prepare Harry, to give you the best chance of success."

Severus considered it. "I would advise attempting a milder Seeing before the exorcism. Potter may be able to navigate his own perception of his own soul, but I would prefer to see where I'm going."

Potter looked doubtful. "I wouldn't call it navigating last time, just wandering around."

"That wandering was probably instinct, Harry," said Granger.

Severus snorted. _For all the strategic instinct that little idiot possesses, he'd have been dead long ago but for his overabundance of luck._ "In any case, returning to the manifestation might provide clues as to what went wrong in your previous attempt. That the Dark Lord is dead proves that the emotional expulsion agent was valid, and to my knowledge, you prepared the ritual accurately. Therefore, it would seem that we must find another means of expelling the Dark Lord's soul."

"You mean I should have used love and something else too?" Potter asked.

"It was a good idea," said Ginevra Weasley, with her hand on his back. "That's what I would have picked."

"_However_," Severus said impatiently. "It would appear that there is something else, some other action or emotion, that can cancel the essence of the Dark Lord. We must find it, and be certain it is correct. We cannot afford a second failure, as I doubt your soul _or_ body would survive a third attempt."

"That's comforting," someone grumbled.

* * *

But neither Potter, nor his friends, nor any member of the Order could seem to come up with anything more repellant to the Dark Lord than love. "We're sure it was the expulsion agent that was wrong?" Tonks asked as she rooted through some of the texts Severus had acquired.

"We have gone over Potter's preparation of the ritual several times. If there had been a problem with the Seeing part itself, he would not have been able to destroy any part of the Horcrux," Severus told her.

"I hope this Seeing gives us some ideas," Potter said as he and his friends sat with a pile of books on the boy's bed.

"Perhaps there's some Muggle trick that might work," suggest Arthur Weasley, coming to join them. "Voldemort wouldn't like anything Muggle-related. Do Muggles do anything like exorcisms?"

Granger let out an uncharacteristic snort. "In a manner of speaking," the girl giggled.

What obscure Muggle reference she was making, Snape didn't know, but Potter, Lupin, and Tonks (in other words, every half-blood in the room) began laughing as well. Potter raised his hands defensively. "No way, I draw the line at THAT!"

"What?" several Weasleys demanded.

"You don't want to know," Granger told them. "Anyway, trust me, Mr. Weasley, it wouldn't be useful." She pulled an utterly ridiculous face, which set Potter and the others laughing again.

"Dudley loved that film," Potter gasped, wiping his eyes.

"I'm surprised that cousin of yours could understand it!"

"I doubt he did; he just liked watching her head spin around."

Severus slapped his book closed, which finally stopped their giggling. "Well, Potter, are you ready?"

"Whenever you are, sir," the boy said insolently.

"Then let's begin," Severus led him over to where Bill Weasley and Moody were setting up their Seeing Circle.

Madam Pomfrey placed a charm that would alert her if either Snape or Potter was in any distress. "If I give the signal, we must blow out the candles at once. That will end it."

Granger, Ginevra Weasley, Minerva, Tonks, and Poppy each knelt before a candle. Severus motioned Potter to kneel, facing him, inside the circle. Two small bunches of herbs had been placed between them, on opposite ends of the circle. Potter copied Severus in placing his wand lengthwise in front of his knees, but Severus had to put a hand under the boy's chin to make him keep eye contact.

"'My mind to your mind, your thoughts to my thoughts,'" Tonks suddenly intoned. Granger and Potter both burst into giggles.

"Pay attention!" Severus snapped at him. The boy got himself under control, and Severus held out his hands, palm up. Potter hesitated. "I am no happier about this than you."

Potter snorted, but laid his palms on top of Snape's. The smoke from the magical herbs quickly blocked all view of anything outside the circle. Severus closed his eyes. Potter's remained open, so that it was his soul they would see. The smoke burned at Snape's nose: incense, elfweed, rosemary. It made him light-headed, feeling as though he were lifting off the floor of the hospital wing and floating in space, feeling strangely weightless. He opened his eyes again.

They were surrounded by darkness, standing now even though neither of them had moved to rise to his feet.

And they were not alone.

Soft voices, the whispers of hundreds, drifted through the dark, and Severus and Potter were surrounded by a milling crowd of people. Severus recognized most of them, but noticed that many looked slightly different from how he knew them to look in life. Hermione Granger regarded them as she walked aimlessly past, with a poise and confidence that the real girl most certainly did not possess. Sirius Black was also a much-glorified version of the real article, and while Ginevra Weasley was not a plain young woman, she was not nearly so serene and beautiful as Potter evidently saw her.

On the other hand, while Severus knew himself to be a less than handsome man, he was hardly as vile as the counterpart that inhabited Potter's psyche. But it amused him. "I take it your soul reflects _your_ feelings towards these people, not their true selves."

Their voices echoed strangely, not in their ears exactly. The darkness was not absolute, like space, but rather had a strange, smoky quality, although Severus could feel nothing damp or physical against his skin. Potter moved in front of him, looking troubled. "Something's not right."

"What?"

"I'm not sure." The boy looked around. Severus was startled to notice that Potter himself was different here. He looked younger. Especially with the apprehensive expression he was currently wearing. "I don't think he's here. Voldemort, I mean. We should see him, right?"

"Your soul, Potter, you tell me."

Potter crossed his arms as though he were cold and shook his head, talking more to himself than to Snape. "Something's wrong."

The shadowy people milled around them, and Severus observed that they only looked at Potter. The ethereal Hermione Granger suddenly paused. "Harry." Her voice was strangely muted, as if Severus was hearing it through a pane of glass. He and Potter stared at her. "He's not here."

"What?" Potter blurted.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Where is he, then?"

Granger did not appear to hear him. Potter approached her. "I don't understand."

"You've been here already, mate," said Ron Weasley from behind them.

"You have to go on," Granger said. "You're running out of time."

"Go on where?" Potter asked, shooting Severus a baffled glance. "Where's he gone?"

"It's not he who's gone," Granger told him. "You've gone."

"You're on the edge, mate," said Weasley. "You need to stop the war and come back."

"But the war's over," Potter protested.

"What are they talking about?" Severus demanded.

"Dunno," Potter said. He looked around again. "But this place doesn't feel right. Not like last time. The darkness, it's…thicker, I guess. Could it…could the darkness be the Horcrux?"

"It's possible that it represents the encroachment of the Horcrux," Severus mused. "And yet your friends tell you that your foe is not here."

"I don't think this is the end of my soul," the boy said. He shivered, then stumbled as he turned around, and Severus steadied him. "There must be another place. That's where Voldemort's gone. But why would they say I've gone too?"

"Did you see a representation of yourself last time?"

Potter shook his head and shivered again. "I don't see anything now either, but I feel…like I'm in danger. Maybe we both are, I'm not sure."

"Don't let him push you over, Harry," Ginevra Weasley's shade told him. "You'll only fall if you give in."

"Ginny, I don't understand," Potter insisted. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"Can't you see the way?" Granger asked.

"No," Potter whispered. "It's too dark. Is it because of him?"

"Oh, Harry, no," she said, with a look of pity. "It's not only him." She gestured to the dark around them. "It's you." Potter's eyes widened in shock, and he backed away as she held out her hand. "We're trying to help you see. We've always tried. Trust us!"

The boy glanced at Severus, looking so genuinely frightened that Severus was startled. He took a step closer to Potter. "I think your friends are trying to aid you."

"I don't know. I don't understand any of this."

"Perhaps responding to her is better than groping around in the dark," Severus suggested. Potter still wavered. "Do you not trust her?"

He shrugged. "I just…" Granger still hand her hand outstretched. Slowly, Potter went back toward her and took it. He flinched as if expecting some danger, and when nothing happened, he relaxed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know…" He looked sheepishly back at Severus, then his eyes widened.

Severus turned and saw part of the darkness fading to reveal a door. "As usual, Miss Granger does the thinking for you."

"Thanks, Hermione." Potter released his shadowy friend's hand and walked past Snape. "Do you hate her for being Muggleborn, or because she's the only student you ever had who's smarter than you?" he asked slyly.

Before Severus could retort, there was a brilliant flash in the darkness, like lightning, and Potter cried out. He grabbed the boy. "What is it?"

Potter seemed to be in physical pain as a spasm gripped his entire body. Light flashed in Snape's eyes again—

Then his eyes flew open, and the smell of burnt herbs made him cough. The smoke cleared away and shouts reached his ears just as Potter's eyes rolled back. Severus lunged forward and caught him before he hit the floor. "Poppy!"

"Get him on the bed!"

Bill Weasley grabbed Potter's other side, and they rushed the boy to the nearest bed. Poppy bent over him, and Tonks hissed an oath. "He's not breathing!"

"Harry?" Ron Weasley squeaked as his mother pulled him away.

"Stand back, Ron, let them work!"

Poppy fired off a spell. "_Ordiri Respiro!_" Nothing. The boy's eyes were tightly closed, and his lips were turning blue. "_Enervate! Experpulmo! _Dammit, he's not responding."

"Oh my god…" someone whimpered.

Tonks hit Potter with a Shock Spell. "Whatever's happened, it's rendered him impervious to magical cures."

"I'm losing his pulse!" Bill Weasley yelled.

"Come on, Harry!" Tonks cried, shaking the boy vigorously, apparently for lack of any other solution.

Granger pushed past Weasley as Poppy ran for a Potion. "Let me try something!"

"Granger, you don't know—" Severus tried to pull her back, but she shoved him so hard he nearly fell over his feet.

"_MOVE!_" the girl shouted at Tonks and bent over Potter's form. As the stunned onlookers watched, Granger pressed her lips to Potter's and blew air down his throat. Once, twice, three times.

"That's impossible, it's stale air," Severus began.

"Shut up!" Granger puffed five more breaths into the boy and felt his pulse. "Come on, Harry!" She breathed into him again. Once, twice—

Potter's eyes flew wide open as a wheezing gasp arched his entire body—a gasp echoed by nearly everyone else in the room. Then he dropped back onto the bed and started to cough, squeezing his eyes shut. Poppy, rushing back with a Potion, stared at Granger. "Hermione…"

The girl climbed off Potter and shot the Healer a disgusted look. "Don't tell me no one in the wizarding world has heard of cardiopulmonary resuscitation!"

"Cardio-_what?_" Ron Weasley exclaimed.

"I haven't," Poppy said gravely. "And I would like you to teach it to me at the earliest opportunity."

"With pleasure," Granger growled, and returned her attention to Potter, muttering something about "bloody wizard prejudices." She tapped his cheek. "Harry? You hear me?" Potter finally stopped coughing, opened his eyes—and bared his teeth, giving a serpentine hiss. Granger screamed and leapt backwards.

She didn't need to explain. Severus had his wand ready as he lunged for the bed, and incanted _Legilimens_ before the boy had time to move. The spell carried him through the red-glinted eyes; as he'd expected, the near-death experience had dropped the Occlusion. Severus was weary already from the Seeing, but they needed Potter's insight about what had happened.

The Occlusions had not completely failed, so it was less difficult than before to build the wall back up separating the two souls, and then the secondary Occlusion that kept the malevolent personality of the Dark Lord below Potter's conscious mind so that his own personality would dominate. Not that Potter's own personality wasn't obnoxious enough in his own right.

Some time later, he sat back on the edge of the bed, blinking and rubbing his eyes. Potter was doing the same. "Bloody-hell," the boy muttered.

Poppy bent over him, forced a Potion down his throat, and tried a spell to improve his breathing. "Magic is working fine on you now. It didn't earlier."

The boy coughed again, rubbing his neck. "Blimey, he was ticked off about something," he rasped.

"Whadda you mean?" Ron Weasley demanded, coming to Potter's side.

Potter looked wryly at him. "We share the same memory, remember? I remember how he felt, just now." He shook his head. "Not happy at all. And I think I know why."

Severus sighed heavily. "Pray, enlighten us, Mr. Potter."

Potter shot him an annoyed look. "I think I know why I stopped breathing during the Seeing: we must have been on to something. Thanks, by the way," he said to Granger.

The girl swatted him. "I wasn't about to just stand there and let you die."

"Oh. Well, thanks for that too, but I was also thanking you for something else. I'll explain later," Potter told her with a cheeky grin, but then his face turned serious. "I…I think I may know how to get him out."

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming next week:_** _The Seeing has been a revelation of sorts for Harry, but some of his discoveries do not sit very well with Snape. Tensions and frustrations build, and tempers start to flare in Chapter Eight: Bitter Pills!_

**PLEASE don't forget to review! All I want for Christmas are your reviews! Share holiday spirit, and I shall gift my merry readers with many more updates in the coming days!**


	8. Bitter Pills

**_A/N:_** _Sorry this chapter' a bit late, dear readers: as Bob Cratchett would say, I was making rather merry…all week. But I hope it will be worth the wait, and here is an update to add to your New Year's festivities! And for my Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the White Sword, I am pleased to announce that that story is also being updated tonight!_

**Chapter Eight: Bitter Pills**

"I think I know how to get him out."

Up until that moment, Madam Pomfrey had been muttering back and forth with Headmistress McGonagall about Harry's vital signs, Moody and the twins were arguing about whether the Horcrux had consciously attacked him, and Hermione and Mr. Weasley had been discussing Muggle resuscitation methods.

But as soon as the words left Harry's mouth, he had everyone's complete attention.

The Headmistress stepped past Madam Pomfrey to sit down in the bedside chair. "You sensed something?"

"Sort of," Harry said, feeling closed in with everyone staring at him. "Just as we had found a way to go after the Horcrux, that was when I stopped breathing. It hurt like it did when I tried to exorcise him before. I think it's because of…" he felt blood rushing to his face and dropped his eyes.

Remus spoke up. "Why don't we give him a little room?" The others reluctantly stepped back, and Harry found it easier to breathe.

Although, that didn't make explaining any easier. "It's just…it's complicated. I dunno if…Icantalkaboutityet."

"We're short on time, Potter," Snape said, and Harry felt his face turning redder still.

"Do you want us to leave you alone?" Hermione asked him. "I mean, we want to stay by you, but we don't have to hear anything you don't want us to."

"No," he said quickly. "No, _you're_ okay." Then he winced. He hadn't meant to offend any of the older people in the room. "I mean…it's just not something I'm used to talking about."

Ginny came and sat on the edge of the bed next to Hermione, and Ron stood behind them. "Then you could tell us," Ginny suggested. "Just look at us instead."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Professor McGonagall, who was standing on the other side of the bed, and she nodded. Moody and Tonks left as well, until it was only the Headmistress, Madam Pomfrey, and…Snape. _Damn._ It was not going to be easy, talking about this in front of him.

"Try to look at us," Ginny repeated, and Harry forced himself to turn around.

"It's…um…" he fidgeted with the blanket and stared down at it. "It's like this…you know when I've done the Seeing—both times, I mean—my soul is in this place full of people?" His friends nodded. "It's not just, you know, friends and family, it's everyone I've ever met. Even the Dursleys, the Malfoys were there too. It was dark the first time I tried the exorcism, and this time it was even darker. I thought it was the Horcrux, but…" He looked at Hermione. "You told me it wasn't." Hermione blinked. "Your—I mean the 'you' that I saw in the Seeing, you said it wasn't only the Horcrux. That it was me too."

"You? Dark?" Ron looked incredulous.

Harry shrugged. "You said something about how I was on the edge, and that I needed to end the war, and…come back."

Ron grimaced. "Sorry, I don't think I know what I meant."

Harry had to laugh at Ron's expression. "Wouldn't expect it, but…the thing is, I think I do. You all kept telling me that he—Riddle—had gone somewhere else, and that I had left too, but I couldn't see where he—or I—might've gone. Hermione, you said that…you were trying to help me see. That you'd 'always tried.' It wasn't 'til I did what you wanted that I saw the door, the way out. That's when my breathing stopped."

Hermione leaned forward. "What was it I wanted you to do?"

He met her calm gaze and swallowed hard. "To trust you. To…let you show me, instead of just searching on my own." He saw understanding in her eyes and looked at Ron and Ginny. "Like you wanted me to do in the war. Like I…should've done."

"We weren't trying to steal your glory, mate," Ron chuckled, but Harry snapped at him.

"That was NOT the reason!" Then he winced and sighed. "Sorry. It had nothing to do with…you know…fame or credit or anything stupid like that. I've had enough sodding hero stuff, enough newspapers." Hermione and Ginny gave wry smiles. "I just didn't want any of you in danger. I didn't want anyone else to get hurt."

Ron wasn't grinning anymore. "How the hell do you think WE'D have felt if you'd got hurt or got killed? You put yourself in more danger going after him alone!"

"I know!" Harry exclaimed, thumping the bed in frustration. He sighed and quieted down again. "I know that now. But I didn't then. Thought it was the right thing. And when I realized that, during the Seeing, I…I was…sorry about it." Bloody hell, his throat was getting too tight to talk. Staring down at the bedclothes, he murmured, "I never meant to cut you off. After the war, it was because of the Horcrux, I guess, but during the war…I shouldn't've done it. It was really lonely, but I thought I was protecting you. Couldn't lose anybody else."

Ginny began brushing his messy hair into place with her fingertips, one piece at a time. "You know…I bet Voldemort never felt anything like…regret. Somehow I don't think he ever apologized for anything."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. That's what I figured too."

"So now you've got another weapon," Hermione said.

"And we've got you back," added Ron.

Harry laughed, but it was a kind of shaky laugh, so Hermione put an arm around him and rested his forehead against her shoulder. From behind them, Headmistress McGonagall said gently, "Mr. Potter, you possess many things that Lord Voldemort has never had and would never wish to have, because such a creature as he cannot possibly understand their value. Not only emotions."

He didn't dare look at her, so he just nodded into Hermione's shoulder, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. "I know."

* * *

Severus spent the next few hours recording in as much detail as possible all that he had seen and heard during the Seeing. As he worked, he knew he ought to be bringing the recounting to Potter and making sure the boy didn't remember any other details.

But something stopped him.

Potter was still awake, still sitting on the bed with Granger and no less than half a dozen Weasleys (the four youngest and the parents). The group was talking, joking, obviously trying to cheer the boy, but although he smiled and sometimes laughed, even Severus could see that his heart was not in it.

_Those were the last words I would have expected to hear out of Potter's mouth—father or son._

He stared down at the parchment. _Experienced no physical or mental discomfort. Potter grew increasingly agitated, reporting that the manifestation did not "feel right." Appeared cold and disoriented._

Not to mention terrified nearly out of his wits, which made no sense at all.

Severus had watched that boy darting in and out of the Dark Lord's reach like a golden snidget for over seven years. There was no human being in existence who could enrage him the way Harry Potter had. Potter had barely blinked that last day when Death Eaters had forced him to his knees to be tortured. Over an hour later, the Dark Lord had offered to end it and simply kill Potter if he would kiss the hem of his robes. The boy only spat at him, and the Dark Lord had started forward to attack Potter with his bare hands.

That was when Snape had hexed him in the back. Potter had been on his feet and tackling Vincent Crabbe, Sr., to the ground, grappling for his wand, before the Death Eaters knew what had happened. While Severus and the Order members descending on the scene had taken care of the Death Eaters, Harry Potter had thrown every deadly, painful, and debilitating curse known to wizardry at the Dark Lord. When Severus looked at it later, the corpse had been nearly eviscerated.

Potter had gone through hours of torture and a mortal battle with a deranged maniac without so much as flinching. So why was a completely illusory manifestation of his soul so frightening to him?

Madam Pomfrey was shooing Potter's friends off so he (and they) could get some sleep. Severus picked up the parchment and went across the wing. "A word with Potter." The boy paused with his Dreamless Sleep Potion halfway to his lips.

"Now?" Poppy asked.

"Yes. Alone. It will not take long."

Judging by the expression on Poppy's face, Ronald Weasley wasn't the only one who had misgivings about Snape's trustworthiness around Potter. She looked at him, and Potter shrugged and put the Potion down. She slowly went away from them—but not out of the wing—and Severus settled himself in a chair beside the bed.

"I wish you to read my account of what we witnessed during the Seeing and contribute your impressions," Severus told him, handing him the parchment and quill.

Potter took them readily enough and scanned the writing, but when he lifted the quill to add to it, he shot Severus a wary look. With a snort, Severus left him alone. It didn't matter; it wasn't as if he wouldn't be able to read it when the boy was through.

Twenty minutes later, Potter came across the wing to where Severus was sitting with Poppy and handed the parchment to him, then walked away without a word. "Poor child," Poppy murmured. Severus rolled his eyes and looked down to see what the boy had written.

_I noticed during the second Seeing that the people who stayed closest to me were my friends and my family. People I didn't know well or didn't get on with were there, but they were further away. The first time, none of them spoke to me directly, but sometimes I could make out a little of the voices whispering. Just my name and a word here and there. It sounded like they were encouraging me. It helped, because it made me feel like I wasn't alone._

_The second time it was different. I'm not sure exactly how. They moved the same way, and I could hear them whispering, but I didn't feel connected to them like before. The darkness felt thicker, more physical, as if it was coming between them and me, and it was very cold. I felt disoriented, and I just had a sense that something was wrong, either with me or with that place. Even when I took Hermione's hand, it still felt as if I was separated from her and everyone I cared about, in some way I couldn't see._

_There was something about the last Seeing that I didn't remember until this one. Toward the end of the exorcism, when I was trying to push Tom Riddle out, I thought I was going to die. I was burning from the inside out, and I didn't think I could go on any longer. The light was really bright in my eyes, and I knew they were all behind me, but I couldn't see them. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Professor Dumbledore. I felt something, I'm not sure what, something really powerful, and that was when Riddle screamed and disappeared._

_The second time I looked for him, but Dumbledore wasn't there. It must mean something, I just don't know what. I was nervous because I kept having this feeling that things were wrong because of something I'd done, rather than just the Horcrux. I don't know why. I just do._

Severus stiffened and looked at Poppy, who had been reading it over his shoulder. "I wonder what he meant by that," she murmured.

"Easy enough to find out," he replied, and headed for the boy's bed. But to his extreme irritation, Potter was already asleep and had taken his Potion. There would be no waking him up without using magic, and Severus didn't want to risk disrupting the cycle of personality shifts. It would have to wait until morning.

* * *

Tonks was sitting beside Remus on the edge of the bed next to Harry's, watching Harry and Ron engaging in an overly-intense game of wizard's chess, with Ginny and Hermione hanging on each respective boy's arm, giving advice.

"Trust me, Harry, keep the knight; give up that rook."

"I can't, that leaves the queen open!"

"Ron, take the knight!"

"Then his queen'll get my bishop."

"Potter!" All four of Harry's bed's occupants jumped as Snape strode into the room. Tonks glanced at Remus and found him watching Snape with apprehension.

Snape was carrying a scroll, which he tossed onto the chessboard in front of Harry, sending the pieces running for cover. Neither Harry nor any of the others complained. "What is the meaning of that?" Snape asked sharply.

Harry's lips thinned, and out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw Remus wince. Snape's confrontational bearing would only provoke the same or worse from Harry. So, predictably, Harry's chin went up, and he replied without so much as glancing at the parchment. "The meaning of what?"

"Your report of yesterday's attempted Seeing contains observations that you had not shared with the rest of the Order. Explain them."

Bloody hell, what did Snape hope to accomplish? Tonks felt Remus shifting beside her, and placed a subtle, restraining hand on his. To her relief, he controlled himself. "Was there something in particular you didn't understand, Severus?"

Snape didn't so much as glance at Remus, but Harry did, so Remus rose and picked up the parchment himself, sitting back down with it beside Tonks. The two of them scanned Harry's writing beneath Snape's, and Remus finally shrugged. "It makes sense to me. Of course, we can't expect to entirely understand Harry's gut feelings and perceptions. It's his soul, after all."

"I was referring to his overly-cryptic remarks about the possibility that his _own_ actions might have contributed to the Horcrux's advance," Snape said coldly.

_Shite._ Harry had been on the verge of relaxing as Remus spoke, but at Snape's words, his green eyes flashed with anger. "And I thought you were wondering about my seeing Dumbledore!"

One of the girls hissed, and Snape bared his teeth. "If indeed it was some doing of _yours_ that has given the Horcrux a hold upon you, I am not surprised he would disappear!"

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed in outrage as Harry shot off the bed.

Despite all he'd been through over the past few days, besieged inside his own soul, Harry still possessed enormous power, and it was almost tangible now, making the air around him ripple in response to his growing anger. Tonks thought she saw Snape falter.

"What do you mean 'disappear?'" Harry said in a low voice that made Ron, Hermione, _and_ Ginny look panicked. With rising volume, Harry went in for the kill. "Maybe you've forgotten, but some murdering bastard threw him off the Astronomy Tower with the Killing Curse!"

Snape let out an inarticulate snarl of rage and advanced, raising his arm to backhand Harry; Hermione screamed, "_NO!_" and Harry instinctively stepped backward only to fall over his own feet. Then Ron was lunging for Snape, roaring, "You son of a bitch!" and Remus wasn't far behind, shouting, "Keep your hands off him!"

"Remus, no!"

"Both of you, stop it!"

"Get the hell away from me!" Harry shouted at Snape, pulling himself to his feet.

"Considering that your life is currently in my hands," Snape growled, "you had best learn some respect!"

"I only _give _respect to people who _deserve_ it, and I don't bloody _care_ whether my life's in your hands or not!" Harry shot back.

Snape's lip curled in a malicious sneer. "Fine, then I will leave you to expel that less self-deceiving version of _yourself_ on your own!"

"Shut UP!" Ron screamed at him, as both Ginny and Hermione held him back.

Shaking with rage, Harry spat, "You're a fine one to talk about self-deception! You know you only helped me because you thought it would end your _debt_ to Dumbledore! You actually think you'll _redeem_ yourself this way? That people will think you're _good?_"

"Better than a spoiled, pampered brat who uses his public adoration to get away with murder!"

"Harry, no!" Hermione let Ron go and lunged for Harry, dragging him back to the bed, but Harry wasn't done.

"YOU'RE the one trying to get away with murder! Give it up!" he cried. "Everyone knows what you are: self-serving no matter what! You switch sides, back and forth, to whichever one is winning! Well, you're not fooling anyone!"

White-faced, his teeth clenched, Snape ground out, "Very well, Potter. Then I will cease inflicting my intolerable self upon your sainted presence!" He spun on his heel and stalked away, but Harry shouted after him.

"Good! You only wanted to help me to save your own precious skin, just like when you killed Dumbledore, you BLOODY, PATHETIC _COWARD!_"

Breathing heavily, Snape half-turned to look back at Harry. "For all I care, you and your 'soul' can _rot._" He stalked out of the hospital wing, and the door boomed closed behind him.

Also breathing heavily, Tonks turned helplessly to Remus, seeing him gazing at Harry with despair in his eyes. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped around his knees, green eyes still bright with anger—and hurt. Ron was beside him, still fuming, and Hermione had an arm around Harry, resting her head on his shoulder. Ginny was kneeling behind the trio, gazing after Snape with an unreadable expression.

Minerva and Moody arrived a few minutes later, demanding to know what had happened. Harry looked alternately sulky and remorseful as Remus explained, and Ron burst out, "It wasn't Harry's fault! That git came storming in all bent out of shape over the Seeing, accusing him of being dark or something!"

"Ron, shh!" Hermione whispered, not letting go of Harry but grabbing Ron's arm with her free hand.

"He did seem rather unbalanced by Harry's report," Remus told them.

Minerva took the parchment and read it. Her expression was blank as she went calmly past them and sat on the bed beside Harry's. "What happened, Mr. Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "He was upset about what I wrote—about how I had the feeling that part of the darkness was something about me?" Minerva nodded. "Then he said I was just like Voldemort—or he was like me, I guess."

"Bastard," Ron muttered. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"I don't know!" Harry exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "He just came in here and started on me like I'd done something wrong! I've no idea what set him off. And…I…gotmadback," he mumbled.

Minerva closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up at Tonks, Remus, and Moody. Mad-Eye's face was very grim. Minerva said quietly, "We now have a serious problem, Harry. Severus Snape was by far the most qualified to assist in expelling the Horcrux fragment."

"I know," he muttered. Then he looked her in the eye and said tightly, "But he was doing it to save himself, not me. I dunno if we could ever trust him."

"I thought we could," Remus said. "What I can't understand is why Harry's report had him so upset."

Ginny tilted her head. "Maybe it reminded him of something."

* * *

Severus generally preferred not to mark his comings and goings with noise, but his fury could not be vented even with gratuitous slamming of every door he passed through and the echoes of his hard steps on the stone floors.

Enough was enough. Groping around in Harry bloody Potter's mind day after day, wrestling the Dark Lord's residual dark personality apart from the equally-distasteful pure-Potter. Enduring the self-righteous condescension of Lupin and Minerva, the blatant suspicion of the Weasleys, and the ungrateful insolence of the brat himself.

Enough. Let them stew in their own juices. He would take his freedom of the tired obligations of so-called penance.

"Professor!"

At the sound of the Weasley girl's voice behind him, he cursed silently and walked faster. But the girl ran to catch up. "Professor, wait!" She scampered in front of him, forcing him to pause. "Please."

To his surprise, she did not beg, but her level gaze and low voice had a greater effect on him than pathetic begging would have anyway. So he neither hexed her nor shouted her down. "Save your breath, Miss Weasley," he said curtly.

Of course, she didn't. "Harry was wrong about what he said. Everyone knows that. But we're all afraid, and…it makes people irrational." He moved to stalk around her, but she stepped again into his path. "Sir, please don't leave. We need you."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "'We?' Not Potter?"

"He does too. But we all do; no one understands that better than you."

"So you merely want me to stay because you don't want to lose your precious Potter," he sneered. She didn't reply. "I have had my fill of trying to save that brat from the situations his stupidity puts him into. It is time he learned to save himself."

The girl pursed her lips, but again blocked his escape. She lowered her voice still more. 'I know that's not the only reason, sir."

"Really? Astonish me," he snorted. Presumptuous little chit.

"I blamed myself too," she said. "When he roped me in, I was sure it was my fault. I understand."

Severus bared his teeth and advanced on her. "Let me assure you, little girl. You understand _nothing_."

She wavered, but did not step aside. "Yes, I do," she croaked. "He fooled so many people into following him, and always the same way." Severus stared at her as she pressed on. "Everyone who…he fooled, we were all looking for something. Once he knew what that was, he could offer it to us."

He nearly laughed aloud. "You imagine that you and I were seeking the same thing?"

"No," she replied. "I don't know what you were looking for; it doesn't matter that they were different things. He offered us whatever we wanted. I wanted a…a friend. Some people wanted respect, other people…wealth, and—"

"_Enough!_," he shouted. "You are a stupid and naïve child, to presume to understand what led Death Eaters to his service. They are neither a source of understanding or pity from any! Now get out of my way!"

He shoved past her, but she went after him. "Then what was it about Harry's report that scared you?"

That startled him, and he turned around. "_Scared _me?"

The girl gulped, but nodded. "It wasn't only Harry being irrational and rude back there. His report bothered you." Her gaze was hard, burning his eyes. "Why? Was it because you recognized yourself in what Harry was feeling?"

With a disgusted bark of laughter, Severus turned to go, but the girl's next words halted him.

"Or was it because you were afraid _he_ would recognize _you?_" Severus slowly turned around. She lifted her chin in a manner not unlike Potter did when the boy was being obstinate. "You know that I understand. Does it bother you that now Harry might? Do you really hate him that much?"

Without answering, he turned away and resumed walking.

She called after him. "Harry thinks you're a murderer! Are you?"

Severus sneered over his shoulder at her, but did not slow down. "In more ways than you can possibly realize."

As for Potter, that infuriating, spoiled, arrogant, selfish little brat was right. He had been deceiving himself without deceiving anyone else. He would not be able to buy his way back into the favor of decent men even if he did manage to save the boy. Nor would it remove the stain of Dumbledore's blood from his hands.

There was no point to carrying on with it. He had been and would always be a monster, irreversibly tainted by the darkness he had chosen. It was no longer worth staying here and pretending to be anything else.

He strode out into the entrance hall, making for the main doors and leaving Ginevra Weasley gazing after him in dismay.

_**To be continued…**_

_**Coming Soon: **If the Order, Ginny, and Headmistress McGonagall can't stop Severus from abandoning them (and Harry) who can? And what exactly was it that unsettled Severus so much about Harry's experience during the Seeing? Answers on the way in Chapter Nine: Soul._

**PLEASE don't forget to review! And a safe and happy New Year to all!**


	9. Soul

**_A/N:_** _Many thanks as always, dear readers, for your wonderful reviews and comments! It has been a lovely vacation home with Mum, and we've gotten a lot of writing done. Alas, I return to DC on Thursday, and while my schedule may be a little hectic for the next week or so, I have multiple chapters of all my stories in the works, and will try to keep updating semi-regularly. Remember, my forum here on my author page, my Yahoo Group, my LJ, and of course, my email are at your service if you have questions or comments._

_**Special Announcement:** Those of you who are patrons of the Online Wizarding Library (aka OWL) at owl dot tauri dot org, please remember to nominate fics for the 2005 OWL Awards between now and January 15th. Voting will begin shortly thereafter once nominations are finalized. And, uh...all my stories are on that site, just in case you're, eh, wondering. (wink!)_

**Chapter Nine: Soul**

Harry was standing at the window watching the snow starting to fall when Ginny came back in to the hospital wing. He looked over his shoulder at her. "Didn't have any luck with him?" She hadn't told him where she was going, but he'd guessed it. She shook her head, and he smiled wearily. "I rather doubted he'd change his mind, but thanks for trying."

"You shouldn't have said what you did, Harry," Ginny told him, coming up behind him.

Harry looked away from her. "There's a lot of things I shouldn't have said. Lot of things _he _shouldn't have said too. Dunno why I'm always the one having to restrain myself."

"Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" Hermione exclaimed tearfully. "He's gone, and so is our best chance of getting the Horcrux out of you!"

That sort of reaction was pretty typical of Hermione, but the way the Order members in the room dropped their eyes told Harry that the odds of his surviving had probably dropped quite a bit. He felt a coldness inside him starting to grow. It must have shown on his face, because Remus came over to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

"We'll figure something out."

Harry closed his eyes and let himself lean against Remus, suddenly feeling very tired. "I know you'll try. I'll try too, but if it doesn't work, it could end a lot worse than here with you."

"Hey! Don't think like that!" Ron protested, but Harry turned to them all.

He didn't yell; he was just tired of being optimistic. "Look, let's face the facts: even with Snape here, it was a long shot that a second exorcism would work. Now…if it doesn't work, I probably won't survive it, but if I do, and the Horcrux is still there…then you know what you have to…"

"Harry, no!" Hermione cried, jumping up. "You know we can't—we can't even think about something like that!"

"You HAVE to!" Harry snapped, and she flinched, covering her mouth with her hands as tears spilled over them again. He felt his own eyes burning, and his throat was suddenly tight, making it difficult to talk. "Look, I just…it's been all Voldemort, all the time, all my life. Any one of those times, the past seven years, I could've died. Maybe even should've died, but for a lot of dumb luck." Someone stifled a sob; it was Professor McGonagall. "Maybe this is just…" he shrugged, turning away again so he wouldn't have to look at them, or they at him. His voice was betraying him to where he couldn't speak above a whisper.

"Maybe I've just finally run out of luck. Or maybe I just let it go."

* * *

To Snape's relief, the Weasley girl did not pursue him any further, nor did anyone else. In his mind, it was confirmation that he was neither wanted nor needed here, and that he'd been a fool to come at all.

Even the denizens of the portraits muttered amongst themselves as he passed. He ignored them, distracted by the anticipation—bordering on trepidation—that seized him as he approached the main doors. Of course, a man finally reaching out for his freedom would only naturally feel apprehensive about it. So he shoved the pangs of doubt aside and strode resolutely toward the door, out of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix forever.

"So, Severus, storming out in a huff again, are we?"

He stopped in his tracks—and his heart nearly did so as well. That cheerful voice sent adrenaline erupting through his blood so violently that it was difficult to breathe. Turning—or rather lurching—to look around him, he realized that the source of the voice was one of the last portraits along the corridor. Its normal occupants had cleared out hastily, by the look of it, leaving the painted image of Albus Dumbledore leaning lazily against the frame.

"Really, my boy, I was so hurt that you never came to visit, I finally had to come seek you out."

Finding his voice, Severus choked out, "You're not supposed to be out here. The former Headmasters must always remain in the office."

Albus shrugged. "I spent my life breaking the traditions of what Hogwarts Headmasters are supposed to do. I don't see why I should stop after my death!" Severus began backing up, intending to reach the doors and get the hell out of Hogwarts and all the tricks it played. But just as had been the case in life, Albus's voice had a way of preventing his escape. "Why ever are you so hard on yourself?"

"I don't know what you mean," he muttered, like a sulky schoolboy.

"I spent the better part of the past forty years trying to convince you that you are not a hopeless stain upon the purity of mankind. Why do you continuously try to prove yourself a monster?"

"Perhaps because I am one!" he snapped, his half-forgotten anger smoldering more hotly.

"We both know that is not true."

Severus said in disgust, "You are a painting. You know nothing."

Albus chuckled. "You sound like a Muggle." Severus turned and tried to resume walking. "I know all that my living self knew, as you are well aware. In my case, I made certain that my portrait would know all the details of my life, not just those of running the school."

"Made yourself immortal, have you?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you." Albus slipped across the hall to another portrait where he could watch Severus again. "You don't want to do this, Severus."

"Don't tell me what I want," he spat. "I am tired of you controlling my life."

For a portrait, that thing had Albus's expressions down perfectly, like that mild disappointment he always showed when Severus got obstinate with him. "I've never tried to control you, Severus, you know that."

"You did a bloody good job for not trying."

Dumbledore's voice hardened ever so slightly. "Every action you've taken, Severus, every choice you've made, has been your own! I may be guilty of cajoling and even bullying on occasion, but I have never controlled you. Control is a device of the cowardly and the tyrannical; I never desired it or attempted it over any man."

Severus slammed his fist into the wall. "Thank you for reminding me of your divinity. But unfortunately for all concerned, mere mortals such as myself have their breaking point, and I have reached mine. I am finished with the Order of the Phoenix, Albus, and I am finished with Harry bloody Potter."

He started again for the doors, but Albus called after him, "You have chosen the cowardly route, then?" Severus spun sharply toward him, furious heat rushing through his body. "I am not calling you a coward; you have never taken a cowardly action in your life. But even the bravest of men may one day turn to cowardice. Is this that day?"

"You've no right," Severus hissed.

How had the portrait magic managed to put so much power into this painted Dumbledore? None of the other headmasters' portraits seemed so…commanding. His blue eyes, just as in life, had gone from twinkling with innocent merriment to blazing with barely-contained power. Severus could not move.

"You know you are the one amongst the Order with the best knowledge and skill to destroy what is left of the Horcrux—the last remnant of Voldemort in this world, Severus. We have all been forced to stomach our displeasure for the sake of the war, and if you abandon them now—if you let the Horcrux grow unchecked and leave Harry here to die—then you will have become a coward."

Trembling, Severus turned away and stalked as fast as he could for the doors, but Dumbledore called after him. "_And_ a murderer."

With a disgusted snort, Severus replied, "You speak as if I've never murdered anyone before. What's one more soul?"

"Two souls, Severus," Albus's voice echoed behind him as the doors swung closed. "Two souls."

* * *

The chaotic events of the morning had taken their toll, and Harry had fallen asleep. Remus sat watching him as Hermione paced and Alastor and Poppy tried to further the exorcism research. Then Poppy came to look at Harry. "What are you thinking?" Remus asked her.

"Well, the requirements for preparing the exorcism are straightforward," she said. "That won't be where we'll have trouble. Severus Snape was by far the most skilled of us at Mind Magic, the one most able to keep his own mind under control during the process. Now one of us must do it."

"Do you think my own methods of…control might be an edge?" Remus suggested. "It's not exactly Mind Magic…"

"But it is a powerful force you have battled," said Minerva, coming to join them with Alastor. "I confess we were thinking the same thing. Are you willing to try?"

Remus looked at her in surprise. "Of course I am!"

"Understand the risks, Lupin," Alastor warned. "The boy himself has nothing to lose, but you're risking your own mind if you try to muck around in his. If the exorcism fails, it could be the end of both of you."

Tonks swallowed hard, but Remus answered without hesitating. "I don't care about the risks to me; if there's the smallest chance I could save Harry, I will do it."

"We'll have to begin soon," said Poppy. "There are two weeks until the full moon, but I am not sure how long the Occlumency on Harry will hold. And every day closer to the full moon, the less strength you will have."

Remus nodded, reaching out to stroke Harry's hair. "Then let's get to work."

"We'll look into the preparations," said Minerva, motioning to Alastor and Poppy. "I think you will want to be the one who explains the plan to Harry when he wakes."

Ron, sitting on the opposite edge of Harry's bed, pulled a face. "Harry will _not_ like it."

Remus chuckled. "No, he won't. But I'll persuade him. There aren't many options left." Harry murmured in his sleep and turned his face toward Remus's hand, looking far younger than his seventeen years.

_I'll try, James. Sirius, I'll try. As long as there's breath in my body, I will never stop trying to save him._

* * *

Ron took over sitting with Harry once Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey dragged Remus away to continue planning for the exorcism. Hermione came over and curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You okay?" he asked her.

He felt her shake her head, and heard her breath hitching. She didn't say anything—it sounded like she couldn't—so he just put his arm around her. His mother came up and hugged them both from behind. Hermione sobbed once, then scrubbed at her face with her fist.

"I don't want him to die," she murmured.

Ron opened his mouth to say, "he won't," but then thought better of it. None of them could promise anything anymore, and the odds of Harry's survival were looking less and less. But the worst part, in Ron's mind at least, was not so much the prospect of Harry's physical death as the thought of what would become of him if his mind fell to the Horcrux first. To see that monster looking out through Harry's eyes and knowing that _Harry_ was gone forever…having to kill him…

There was a faint noise from the bed in front of him, and Ron blinked. Harry had been lying perfectly still, but now his eyelids were fluttering, and he was tossing in his sleep. "Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione called.

The mediwitch hurried over, with Remus and McGonagall at her heels, and began muttering spells on Harry. "He's only dreaming."

"But…" Hermione bit her lip. "Didn't he take Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

Madam Pomfrey froze, and the rest of them exchanged glances. Ginny picked up the empty goblet and vial on the side table. "He did. I remember; Tonks had to remind him before he fell asleep again."

Professor McGonagall turned slowly from Madam Pomfrey to look down at Harry, whose dreams had not only overcome a powerful Potion but were clearly disturbed. "What does this mean?"

"The failure of the Occlumency?" Remus asked quietly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded grimly. "It's happening more quickly than we anticipated, probably due to Harry's emotional state. I can't tell you for certain how much time he has as himself, but we had better act as quickly as possible."

Hermione wrung her hands as Harry whimpered in his sleep. "Should we wake him up?"

"Dunno who you'd get at this point," said Moody from behind them.

Harry's nightmare grew worse even as they watched, debating what to do, and then he saved them the trouble by jerking away with a gasp that sent them all leaping backward. Looking at all their faces, Harry blinked, "What?"

"You all right?" Ron asked.

"Uh…yeah, nightmare, that's all," Harry muttered, rubbing his face. "Must've forgot to take…" He looked at the empty vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion and trailed off. "I did take it. But I was dreaming, why…"

Headmistress McGonagall exchanged glances with Madam Pomfrey and said, "The dreams overcoming the potion are only a symptom of a greater problem, Harry." Comprehension slowly dawned on Harry's face, and he closed his eyes.

"The Horcrux is getting stronger."

"It is. We cannot be sure that this would not have happened if Severus were still here," she added to the others. "He said from the beginning that the Occlumency would be a temporary solution at best."

Ron could see Harry watching the reactions of everyone else closely, and his friend was visibly forcing down his own anxiety. "Okay," Harry said. "Then I guess if we're going to try the exorcism again, we'd better get to it."

"Tonks, Lupin, let's get to work," said Moody. "We'll set you up in one of the private rooms."

"I'll need to raid the Potions stores, but I'm certain everything we need is stocked," said Madam Pomfrey.

"When's it going to be done?" Hermione asked anxiously, grabbing for Ron's hand.

Everyone looked at each other as if it had just occurred to them that they ought to be working on some sort of schedule. "It'll take at least a couple of hours to spell the room ready," said Tonks.

"Might go faster if we had those oldest Weasley boys," Moody suggested.

"I'll get them," said Mrs. Weasley. "And I'll let everyone else know where we stand."

"Assembling the herbs and potions shouldn't take more than three hours," said Madam Pomfrey. "I can also have Strengthening Potion made up for both of them in that time."

"Three hours, then?" said Professor McGonagall.

"Better make it four; some of the Purification Spells are a bit complicated," said Tonks.

"Right, then. Everyone get to it."

Harry watched and exchanged a bemused look with Ron, who suspected he knew what his friend was thinking: they'd all practically forgotten about him. But that was okay with both of them; Moody, McGonagall, and the rest would be back to poking and prodding Harry soon enough.

So the Aurors went off to prepare the site of the exorcism, Pomfrey and McGonagall went off for supplies, and Mrs. Weasley went off to inform the rest of the concerned parties of their progress. Before any of them really knew what had happened, Ron and Harry were alone in the hospital wing with Hermione and Ginny.

"Were they all moving too fast to keep track of, or is my brain just slowing down?" Harry asked.

"Can't both be true?" Ron said. Harry cracked a grin. More seriously, Ron sat down on the edge of Harry's bed and said, "Y'know, you don't have to put on a brave face, mate."

Harry frowned, then shrugged. "What's to put on? I'm more worried about keeping my mind clear. Might slow the Horcrux down a bit." He smiled ruefully at them all. "It takes calm, that's all."

"Do you want to try and sleep again?" Hermione suggested.

With a sigh, Harry flopped backward onto the pillows. Ginny and Hermione came and sat on each side of the foot of the bed, making them look like gargoyles, in Ron's opinion. "Wouldn't mind it," Harry admitted, yawning. "I'm just a little worried that I won't wake up myself next time."

"What'd you dream of?" Ginny asked.

"Don't remember. Except that it wasn't good."

* * *

For the next couple of hours, Harry slept only lightly as the Order members came and went in their preparations for the exorcism. Something in his instincts simply didn't want to spend what might well be the last hours of his life asleep—if only he weren't feeling so ruddy tired. But he was too keenly aware that the odds of survival were not in his favor.

An exorcism was a dangerous ritual, for both the person being exorcised and the exorcist. That was bad enough, knowing that Remus was putting himself at risk, but Harry knew there would be no talking his parents' and Sirius's friend out of it. _If I have to die, please let Remus live. The war's over, and he and Tonks can finally be together…he deserves to live._

Did Harry? He'd pondered that question quite a bit lately. The answer was always…inconclusive.

Although this was hardly the first time he'd gone into a situation where survival was unlikely, he found himself with far too much time on his hands to just sit around and think about life. The one he'd expected, the one he'd had, and the one he probably wouldn't have. He watched Ron and Hermione and Ginny a lot—well, whenever they weren't watching him, anyway. He thought about them a lot, all the things they'd done together. It made him smile. There were a lot of things he supposed he ought to tell them, but…somehow he knew it would only upset them.

No one seemed willing to face the possibility—okay, the likelihood—that Harry wouldn't survive. And that scared Harry. The only prospect that scared him more than dying was the prospect of some sort of half-living existence where his body still lived inhabited by a remnant of Voldemort because the people who loved him couldn't bring themselves to destroy it.

_I never knew you could love anyone that much._

At another moment, it would have been a wonderful feeling. Right now, it was just scary. Harry tried to imagine how he would feel if it were Ron or Hermione or Sirius or Remus in this situation, and he had to admit, he wasn't sure if he would be able to kill a single one of them even if their minds were completely erased by evil.

_But I don't want to exist that way. If it has to end, I just want it to end._

With that thought, he finally escaped his friends on the pretense of going to the bathroom, then slipped back into the private wing. He found the room that Tonks, Bill, Charlie, and Moody were working on, doing special spells to remove any magic that might interfere with the exorcism, and hesitated a few paces away from it until Tonks came out. She jumped.

"H-Harry…what're you doing here?"

He could almost see what she was thinking. "Don't worry, I'm still myself. I need to talk to Moody for a minute. Didn't want to risk going in yet, so…can he come out?" he asked cautiously, hoping it sounded like he was bringing a message or an idea to the old Auror.

Apparently, Tonks was convinced, because a moment later, she emerged from the room with Moody. Harry walked a few paces back down the hall so they were out of earshot. "Potter? What's the matter?" Moody asked, sounding suspicious—as always.

Harry took a deep breath. "Professor, I wanted to ask you…a favor, I guess." Moody frowned, and his glass eye spun a bit, making Harry suspect the old Auror was trying to Legilimize him. Harry forced himself to meet Moody's gaze. "If this goes…wrong…I mean if the exorcism doesn't work, but I survive, and the Horcrux…wins…I don't know if the others'll be able to…do what they need to do."

Moody's expression softened as much as it ever did as he realized what Harry was saying. "So, Potter?"

"If it comes to that," Harry went on. "Will you make sure…I mean, will you see to it that…" _Bloody hell, man, spit it out!_ "Ifitdoesn'tworkIwantyoutokillme." His throat tightened, and he had to look down. "Please. I don't know if the others can, and even if they could, I don't think they'd ever forgive themselves. But I know you know…what things have to be done, sometimes."

Moody actually put a hand on his shoulder. "I think you've got a better fighting chance than you know, Potter. You're a good lad. You'd make a good Auror." Harry managed a weak grin, and Moody went on, "But, if it comes down to the worst…you've got my word." He glanced past Harry and raised his voice ever so slightly. "I'd ask the same if I were in your shoes."

Harry looked over his shoulder in alarm and saw Professor McGonagall standing in the hall, well within earshot. Her eyes were brimming, but Harry realized that she would also make sure his wish was carried out, if the Horcrux got control. That knowledge was a rush of relief he hadn't expected, and she saw it. "Come, Harry. Alastor has warding to finish, and Madam Pomfrey has some draughts that you should take."

Harry followed her down the hall, but cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Moody was watching him go, and nodded to him once before disappearing back into the room. Turning away, Harry swallowed hard, and Professor McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder as she led him back into the wing.

Strong odors were emanating from Madam Pomfrey's hospital wing laboratory, indicating potions being brewed. Professor McGonagall wrinkled her nose and muttered an Air Clearing Charm. Several bottles and goblets were already set out, and Remus was waiting for him. "Pull up a chair; misery loves company," he said, and Harry grinned. "Only the poisons ever taste good. Here," he handed Harry one of the goblets.

"What potions are they?" Hermione asked.

Remus shrugged. "Mostly generic pick-me-ups, 'health, wealth, strength,' that sort of thing. Bottoms up," he said to Harry, and quaffed his down, then pulled a comically disgusted face. "Blegh!"

Knowing Remus was trying to put him at ease, Harry did his best to laugh. "It's not as bad as Skele-grow." Hermione and Ron grinned. As they worked their way down the row of bottles, exchanging revolted looks, Harry asked, "What next?"

Sobering, the werewolf replied, "We wait until everything's ready, I suppose." His friends cringed, and Harry couldn't suppress a tremor that went through him. Remus hesitated, then held out one arm, and Harry moved closer to him, closing his eyes. "It will be all right," Remus said softly.

Without looking up, Harry murmured, "Thanks." _Thanks for lying to me._ "And I…you'll be careful, right? For yourself, I mean? I don't want…"

"Not to worry. I'll proceed with caution," Remus said, turning in his chair to hug Harry fully.

"That won't be enough, Lupin."

Hermione gasped. Harry and Remus turned in surprise, and half the people in the hospital wing jumped up. Ginny didn't make a sound as Professor McGonagall and the Aurors came out to confront the new arrival, and Remus's grip on Harry tightened.

It was Snape.

* * *

_Lupin_ _looks as if he expects me to attack the boy._

Severus stayed where he was and let them decide how to respond to him. Molly Weasley had a hand on her wand, but her husband stopped her, and turned to Minerva instead, as did many of the others. Interestingly, the only person apart from Ginevra Weasley who did not turn to Minerva for a cue was Potter himself.

The boy actually opened his mouth to speak, but then Minerva spoke up. "Well, Severus? Do enlighten us as to _why_ Remus's caution _and concern_ will not be sufficient to succeed in the exorcism."

_I can never decide whether you took scolding lessons from Albus or not._ Severus met her gaze steadily. "It is Lupin's _concern_ for Potter—and the mutuality of it—that will be a danger in this case. The less emotional attachment the exorcist has toward the subject, the better. Objectivity and calm become increasingly necessary the more violent the magic becomes—and it is at that point that an exorcist who is overly attached will find it increasingly difficult to control his own mind."

Lupin moved closer behind Potter and gripped his shoulders more firmly, a look in his eyes that suggested he would see Severus resume guiding Potter in the exorcism over his dead body. And others were of Lupin's mind. "Are you volunteering to take over?" Ron Weasley sneered. "Until you get into a snit and storm off again, anyway?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth," muttered one of the Weasley twins.

"Not again, Minerva," said Molly Weasley, stepping fiercely toward her with a wary eye on Severus. "He had his chance, and he's not to be trusted!"

"I'm not sure if we've got many options," said Moody reluctantly. "Snape's got a point. Lupin's the best suited of any of us, except for their relationship—no offense," he added to the werewolf and the boy. Lupin dropped his eyes, but Potter gazed from Moody to Snape and back again.

"If objectivity's what's needed, I'm not sure if Professor Snape is any better on that score," said Arthur Weasley. "Even if his feelings aren't the same as Remus's, I'd wager they're no less dangerous to Harry."

"True, but I didn't hear him volunteering anyway," said Granger. She folded her arms and fixed Severus with a cold gaze. "Is Harry right about you after all, _Professor?_ Are you just back to offer advice while someone else takes all the risks so you can convince yourself you've been _redeemed_?"

_So, even the Wise and Infinitely Charitable Miss Granger has her breaking point._ He said nothing in reply to the girl, but Minerva glared at him. "I would like to know that as well, Severus. If you don't intend to be useful to us, I see no reason for your continued presence."

He withheld the urge to give a sarcastic bow. "In that case, I offer my apologies for my…precipitous departure," (there were loud snorts from several occupants of the room), "and am willing to perform the exorcism myself."

Minerva and Moody exchanged glances with each other, then with Lupin, who did not look prepared to release Potter into Snape's charge again. "I don't like it," said one of the elder Weasley brothers.

"This is the only chance we have," Molly Weasley said urgently. "I think it'd be safer giving Remus the job, even discounting his emotions and the Mind Magic, than putting Severus Snape in control of Harry again."

"No."

When Potter spoke up, everyone turned to him in surprise. The boy eyed Severus, then said to Minerva, "Let him do it."

"Harry?" Lupin looked hurt. "I don't understand…"

Severus smirked. "It's the risks, Lupin. The risks to the exorcist in the process, that is what concerns him. Both of our emotional biases being equal, Potter would rather have my mind in harm's way than yours." He narrowed his eyes at the boy. "He cannot deny it."

To his surprise, the boy didn't look the least bit troubled by his accusations. "Fine," he said mildly. "I won't." Giving Lupin one apologetic glance, Potter stepped away and waved a hand toward the private wing in a mocking invitation. "Shall we?"

"Is everything prepared, Alastor?" Minerva asked quietly, not taking her eyes off Severus.

"Well, yes, but I don't know about this…"

"We're running out of time!" Potter said. "You said it yourself; the Occlumency won't last forever. There's no point to stalling any longer; let's just do it!"

Minerva looked helplessly from Moody to Poppy, then to the others, and slowly nodded to Potter and Severus. Potter immediately headed for the private wing, and Severus calmly followed him. Granger and the two youngest Weasleys ran past him. "Harry, wait!"

Reluctantly, the boy paused. He seemed to want momentum alone to carry him through. Severus brushed around them and went to the indicated door. It had been warded against any magic not associated with the exorcism, he was glad to see, and the room appeared to have been properly arranged. Minerva and Moody joined him while Potter's friends, Lupin, and the Weasleys gathered to see Potter off.

"I would give my life to spare that child's, Severus," Minerva said quietly. "I have no choice but to trust you again." She looked hard into his eyes. "Do not make me wrong."

Severus met her gaze. "I will do all that I am able to do." He looked impatiently at Potter, who was having to pry himself out of Molly Weasley's arms. In an odd reversal of their usual interactions, Ronald Weasley was the distraught one, while Granger was surprisingly calm as she embraced the boy and whispered encouragement in his ear.

Then Potter embraced the Weasley girl in farewell and started to move away from them, but paused. "Ginny?" She came back to him. "I…I need to…I should've…" Flushing under the gazes of everyone else, Potter nonetheless rallied his courage and moved closer to the girl. Her eyes widened, then she responded in kind to the boy's hesitant kiss. Severus turned away in disgust, and when he looked back, they were embracing once more before stepping apart. He ran his gaze over everyone there in the corridor and finally said, "I should've done a lot of things."

Molly and Granger were both having to shelve their own feelings to console Ron Weasley, who appeared on the edge of a complete breakdown. Potter backed up toward Severus as though unwilling to look away from them, and finally turned to him.

For one moment, the look in the boy's eyes shook Severus: he was terrified. Almost despairing. But then Potter's mask of resolve slipped firmly back into place, and he walked past Snape into the room. Severus nodded once to Minerva, then closed the door behind them.

* * *

The room was lit only by candles, which made the light flicker throughout, and Severus could feel the pulse of magic from the Purifications and Enhancing and Sight Spells already put in place. Well, that lot knew how to prepare the rite properly at least. Potter looked a little disoriented.

"There is more magic within this room than you have ever been exposed to at one time. Living spells are affecting us both," Severus informed him.

Potter nodded, rubbing his forehead. "What now?" Severus gestured to the center of the carefully-etched pentacle in the stone floor and the herbs and oils laid out for the ritual. Potter recognized what to do with most of them and began preparing the little fires on each of the points.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Snape asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "Are you especially eager to die?"

The boy did not look up from tying the herb bundles. "Am I going to die?"

"You may. We both may, as you well know. Answer the question."

Potter shrugged and finally looked at him. "Die or live, I just want this over with. There's no point putting it off; I can't really live with that _thing_ hanging over my head. For better or worse, at least it'll be done. For everyone, and we can all get on with…whatever comes next." A bundle trembled in his hands as he put it into place.

In spite of himself, Severus felt a rush of what he could only describe as admiration. For all his obnoxiousness and faults, Potter was not one to retreat from approaching bad news. Not unlike the exorcist here, Severus had to admit: Potter would prefer the worst of news to having to wait for it.

"Immediately before we begin, I am going to begin lowering the Occlumency barrier," he told Potter. The boy blinked. "It may have been responsible for whatever was 'missing,' as described during the Seeing."

"Another part of my soul," Harry mused. "I guess that makes sense. That door could have given the Horcrux a way in just as it gave me a way out."

"Possibly. It may also make the foreign soul easier to identify. There." Severus and Potter arranged the last of the magical herbs and oils, and knelt facing each other in the pentacle's center. Within the center had been etched a circle, wherein the exorcist and the subject would be confined at the focus of every spell and charm in the room, along with the magics of their own bodies. "Are you ready?"

The boy's green eyes looked very large in the dim, flickering candlelight, but he nodded without hesitation and placed his palms over Snape's. "Ready," he breathed. The fumes of the burning herbs was already growing powerful.

"Then let us begin."

Severus looked through Potter's eyes into his mind to seek out the weakening barrier between the two souls, the two identities. It was definitely close to failing, for it collapsed almost as soon as Snape's own magic touched it.

He blinked. Potter, already falling into the grip of the spells and the herbs, could not have retreated from Severus even if he'd wished to, but Severus saw the change in his face, the red flickering deep within his eyes. The smell of the herbs was making the boy disoriented, and he began breathing faster and more shallowly in alarm.

"Relax," Severus ordered, his own voice sounding strange to himself. Potter swayed and let out a faint groan as the red glow in his eyes seemed to wax and wane and the spells upon them both grew more focused. It would not be long. Severus caught his shoulders. "Potter! Focus!"

"Ah," the boy gasped, sagging forward. Severus stifled an oath and held onto him as his pulse began to echo loudly in his ears. Was this merely the intense power of the exorcising magic or was something already going wrong? He had no idea, but Potter's nearness to collapse did not seem a good sign.

"Potter!" he shouted, his voice swallowed up by thick smoke that billowed into both of their faces.

All at once, the boy's head snapped up, his eyes directly on Severus, a fiery blend of green and red, his jaw clenched in a grimace of pain or exertion, then the smoke went from gray to black and swallowed them both up.

* * *

He was back in the black place he had seen before, only now, something was very different. He could see the figures of those who inhabited Potter's soul still moving around him, but…he was alone.

Potter was nowhere in sight.

_**To be continued…**_

_**Coming Soon: **Ever gotten lost in somebody else's soul—literally? Well, Severus has, and it means trouble. Time runs short, and two lives and two souls now hang in the balance in Chapter Ten: Heart._

**PLEASE don't forget to review! I'm going back to Stress Central Law School, I need my review fix!**

**Oh, and, uh...one more announcement. My birthday is next week, January 19th. I'm turning the big quarter-century. You all know what I want for a present (see above if you aren't certain.)**


	10. Heart

**_A/N:_** _Happy birthday to meeee! Upon the morrow—well, at about 5:20 am, actually—I shall be 25! And a special shout out to my friend Dan, and to Edgar Allen Poe, whose birthdays January 19th also is. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and birthday wishes! I present this chapter to celebrate! Enjoy!_

**_Announcement/Schmooze:_** _Voting has now opened on the 2005 OWL Awards at owl dot tauri dot org! My stories "Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills," "Duel," "Dumbledore's Men," "Legilimens," and "Offensive Magic" are up for multiple categories, as are Mum's stories "Tea & Sympathy," and "Blanket!" Please register and vote between now and January 31st!_

**Chapter Ten: Heart**

"Potter!" Severus shouted. His voice seemed to echo on forever. "Potter, where are you?" The words faded away into the darkness.

Frustrated, he looked around. The place looked more or less the same as it had during the Seeing…although perhaps it was somewhat darker still. The specters inhabiting the place had said that the darkness was due to Potter as well as the Horcrux. But what exactly that meant for them, Snape could only guess.

"Damn it." He started walking. As before, the shades moved around him without paying any notice, and he wove through them in search of some sign of where Potter might have gone. There was no door this time, no way out that he could see.

He looked around for Hermione Granger's likeness, who had given Potter the hint before, but she did not seem at all aware of him. Still, if he could not find his way out of here, he could hardly guide Potter in expelling the Horcrux. So he went toward Potter's friends. "Granger?" She did not so much as look at him. "Hermione Granger?" Nothing. "Ginevra? Ron Weasley!"

Still nothing. Growling aloud, Severus observed that the figures of Potter's friends did not appear as they had during the Seeing; they looked less glamorized, more as Severus himself knew them to be. Would Potter's absence account for that? And how the hell was he going to find the boy?

Glancing past the group, he started at the sight of Draco Malfoy wandering along. Well, Potter had known Draco, so it stood to reason—Draco looked at him. Only for a moment, but the boy, looking just as Severus remembered him, met his eyes.

"Draco?" Severus breathed. The shade stopped where he was, still gazing at Severus, though he made no move to come closer. Severus hurried toward him. "Do you see me?"

"You see me," Draco answered, in that hazy manner that Potter's friends had addressed him previously. "You're looking in the wrong place."

"I have to find Harry Potter," Severus told him. "Where must I go?"

Draco looked puzzled. "Go to him," he said, as if it were obvious.

"That's what I'm trying to do! Where is he?"

"Not here," Draco said.

"I KNOW that!" Severus shouted, and to his surprise, Draco stepped back, looking hurt. "Draco, I'm sorry, I…" _Wait._

This was not the Draco Malfoy that Potter knew. Nor was this a Draco Malfoy who Potter would probably ever imagine. This was…

_My Draco. _

The Draco he had tried so desperately to protect, not only on Albus's orders but for the boy's own sake, and failed. This was the Draco he saw in his dreams and nightmares, in those last moments before the death he had not expected, a relatively merciful death by the Dark Lord's standards, but one that would haunt all who witnessed it for the rest of their lives.

"This place," he said to Draco, looking past him at the shades of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, who were not approaching but watched from a distance. "This is not Potter's soul. It's mine?"

"No, it's his," Draco said. "It's also yours."

"We've been joined somehow?" Severus frowned. This did not bode well. Keeping his mind and soul separate from his subject was one of the key requirements of the exorcism.

Narcissa came up behind her son, putting her hands upon his shoulders and drawing him to her in a way that reminded Snape of Lupin with Potter. "You have been joined for a long time," she said. "But this is the end. You must go back."

"Back…back from the end…to the beginning," Severus wracked his brains, trying to decipher this riddle. "The beginning of what?"

"Of the end."

Severus wished there was something handy for him to kick. Maybe if Granger or one of the Weasleys were closer by, but it would take too long. "What is the end? When was the beginning?" Balling his fists in frustration, he blurted, "Help me, Narcissa. I do not understand what you're trying to tell me!"

There was sympathy in her eyes, and for a moment, he feared she would not be able to explain any more. But then, she said softly, "The end is darkness, Severus. For you, for him. You must return to where the darkness began. You will find him there. That is where he will fall, and hope will be lost for both of you."

"The end…you mean if the Horcrux takes us both," Severus murmured. She did not answer, but something told him he was on the right track. "If we cannot stop it, its darkness will destroy us. Where it began…" He struggled to think. Did she mean where the Horcrux had begun, when Potter was an infant? That would have been the first touch on the boy's soul, but what had Severus had to do with that? He had returned to Dumbledore to try to save the Potters, but…would that really be the beginning of the end?

He glanced at Narcissa and Draco, and suspected they could hear his thoughts. Well, if this was his soul, that stood to reason. "It would not be when the Horcrux was made then, when he was a child?" Again, no response, but he knew he was correct. "So the beginning of the end would be something more recent, something that affected us both directly. Something to do with the arrival of darkness.

The arrival…the spread…_THINK, man!_

"The second war," he whispered. "When the Dark Lord used Potter's blood to restore his life, darkness returned. I returned to him, he began attacking Potter's mind."

Memories flooded his head of Harry Potter three years ago—trying to teach him Occlumency and blocked by the boy's stumbling block of sheer fury, born of the resentment and fear of years. Born in the horror of the Triwizard Tournament and Cedric Diggory's murder, the Dark Lord's return…the boy's guilt. Severus had felt it. At the time, he had laughed at it.

Now, it all fit.

He turned around and saw light, as though at the end of a tunnel out of the dark. Without a look backward, he charged toward it. Wind swept around him, and suddenly he was no longer in the inky blackness, although the relative darkness of night still surrounded him.

* * *

He was in a cemetery. Specifically, _the _cemetery: Little Hangleton. This was where it had happened. Severus had arrived two hours late, under much suspicion, and nearly paid for the delay with his life, but in the end, he'd managed to convince the Dark Lord of his continuing loyalty.

The only problem was, there was no sign of the Dark Lord, or the Death Eaters…or Potter. And a glance at the moon told him that this was the hour when the Dark Lord had risen; he remembered that moment vividly, when the Dark Mark had burned in his arm as he sat in the stands at the Tournament.

So where the hell were they?

_Help me…_

He spun around. "POTTER!" His call echoed just as it had before, away into nothing. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

No response, except the voice that was more in his mind than in his ears. _Let the police come…anyone…please, help me…_

"Damn it, where the hell are you," he muttered furiously. If he wasn't here, why could Severus hear him? It sounded as if…those words might have been his thoughts at that moment…not the sort of thing that would go through Potter's head now, but back then, he was only fourteen.

_He would have been terrified beyond measure._ It wasn't all that difficult to acknowledge it; if Severus had been the one bound to that tombstone in the manner that Pettigrew and the others had described, watching the Dark Lord return, he too might have been all but paralyzed with sheer horror. And Harry Potter had been a child. He would have had even less of a fighting chance than Severus.

So why wasn't he here?

This could not be where the spread of the darkness had begun. So when had it begun?

At the death of Sirius Black, when the Dark Lord had possessed him? For Potter that might make sense, but that event had no real significance for Severus. Or was his fate tied to Potter's only through the exorcism?

He could not say exactly why or how, but he knew that was not the case. At some point before this day, Severus Snape and Harry Potter's destinies had become intertwined, irrevocably so. There was no doubt that Severus would share the boy's end, whatever that was.

But _when?_

Wait…perhaps the rise of the darkness would not necessarily be due to some _advance _by the Dark Lord. Perhaps it had happened when Potter had first tried to exorcise the Horcrux from himself.

Or…the day after, the day the Dark Lord had been destroyed. The day Severus and the boy had fought their last duel—and chose to endure a future together rather than one in the spotlight of the wizarding public.

Now _that_ made sense.

* * *

And with a thought, he was there, on that blood-soaked pasture surrounding the ruins of the old Muggle manor house where the Dark Lord had set up his last headquarters. This was where Potter had been dragged after his capture; this was where the Order had caught up with him and engaged the Death Eaters while Potter fought and destroyed the Dark Lord. This was where Severus Snape and Harry Potter had thrown themselves into battle with each other…each hoping to destroy himself.

"So where…the hell…ARE YOU?" he shouted into empty space.

Where would Potter be waiting if not here? Would Severus just keep searching these memories until his body's strength ran out and he and Potter were found dead in that room, their energy sapped by the Horcrux and the exorcism magic?

Was the boy already dead?

_He told me why he trusted you. You were the only one with the courage to do what he wanted. The only one with the courage to kill him._

He remembered Potter saying that. For some reason, it had angered Severus beyond all reason to know that Potter had learned the truth. He had not wanted Potter to understand. He preferred to hate and be hated by that boy.

_You were Dumbledore's man all along; you came back to our side because you thought you had violated a Wizard's Debt to my father by telling Voldemort about the prophecy! You came back because of your HONOR! You, Severus Bloody Snape, actually had HONOR!_

Potter had seemed just as angry as Severus to have learned those things.

Unsure of whether the voice in his mind was merely his own memory or some vague echo of the words that had been spoken here, he listened, trying to make sense of it all.

_He made you promise to kill him, if it ever came down to him or me! YOU KILLED HIM BECAUSE HE ASKED YOU TO!_

Such rage, Potter had expressed, as if the true nature of Dumbledore's death was more hateful to him than the belief that it had been ordinary murder.

_I swore to give you the same loyalty I had given him, once it was over._

This was the first time he'd heard or remembered his own words. They had been bitter on his lips then, and were bitter in his mind now…as was the surge of emotion that accused him of breaking that oath he had made.

_You did not deserve his love._

_Neither did you._

How rivalrous they had been on that score.

_He knew I was the only one with the courage and the loyalty to do as he asked._

That had been his only consolation in the days after Albus's death, after Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius had died. That had been his source of rage when the presumptuous little brat had called him a coward, never imagining what Severus had been forced to do for Albus.

_He knew I loved him. _

And yet…Potter had managed to come up with the one response that could counter it. Severus had known that he was beaten, by Potter and by his own conscience. It had been a bitter concession, that the boy's loyalty to Albus had equaled his own.

"Wait…" Severus whispered aloud. "Albus?"

_Severus_…_Severus…please…_

"No," he murmured.

_Trust your instincts, Severus._

It made sense in a bitterly ironic way. There was one other place, one other moment in which Snape's and Potter's fates had been thrown together, a pivotal moment, exceptional in the sheer horror it had been for them both, unequaled in the pain its memory visited on Severus and the rage that Potter had expressed over it.

And it was the location of the one other key figure who was missing from that dark, lonely crowd in their souls. Or at least, it had marked an end there…

_Never had I known such hate. I hated many things, many people at that moment, with more intensity than I ever had. I believed it was truly the end of my life as a redeemable human being._

Potter had been there, he had learned afterward. The sixteen-year-old boy had witnessed it, trapped under a Body Bind by Albus. Severus knew the boy had adored Albus…loved him. What must he have felt there?

_My world has never been darker than at that moment. Perhaps for Harry Potter, it was the same._

Trembling with anticipation of a torture worse than any punishment the Dark Lord had ever visited upon him, Severus reached out in his mind and soul for the moment that had all but shattered his sanity, and stepped back into it.

* * *

The Dark Mark blazed green and terrible overhead, blotting out the stars.

The air at the top of the Astronomy Tower seemed even darker by comparison. Severus wished with all his heart to forget the whole thing, to turn away and flee this place, this living nightmare. But it was not possible.

For he had found Harry Potter. And Albus Dumbledore.

But the circumstances were not exactly as they had been that night; the wind was much higher, strong enough to unbalance a person. And there was only one person on top of the tower with the boy and the Headmaster.

Tom Riddle, his eyes red and malevolent, a mocking smile upon his face. It was he who controlled the wind, making it stronger, swirling around the tower until it threatened to sweep both Potter and Albus into the sky.

_If he falls…_

_Don't let him push you over, _Ginevra Weasley's shadow had said during the Seeing. And her brother's shade had said something about Potter being "on the edge."

This was what they meant. This was the night that had destined Severus and Potter to duel again after the Dark Lord's demise, to each loathe the other beyond anything else, even the Dark Lord.

He started to move forward, out of the shelter of the doorway where he had stood a year ago, and the wind instantly buffeted him, causing him to grab for the wall. And then he heard Potter crying out.

"Give me your hand! Please, just hold on!"

The boy was clinging to the wall, somewhat shielded from the gale, but he was reaching for Albus, whose position was by far the most precarious on the edge of the tower; he looked seconds away from being blown off. Blown off in much the same manner that Snape's Killing Curse had thrown him, Severus realized.

But Albus could not reach Potter, and the boy was far too small to last more than an instant in the wind's full force. If he let go of the wall, he would die. Severus noticed that Potter looked different: he was sixteen again. Come to think of it, Severus felt different himself; he too was exactly as he had been the night Albus…died. The Dark Mark was back, burning on his arm.

"You can't get to me, Harry!" Albus called out to him, as calm about his peril as he'd been that night. "You must stay!"

"NO!" the boy shouted, stubbornly trying to scuttle across the stones to Albus, but the wind nearly picked him right up.

"Harry, don't!"

"POTTER!" Severus shouted, inching along the wall toward him. "Stay where you are!"

And Tom Riddle spoke for the first time, his voice carrying easily over the wind. "Oh, look who's here, Harry! Better look sharp, it's the assassin himself!"

Potter twisted around to look, and Severus thought he saw red in the boy's eyes, but somehow he knew that it was not due to any presence of Riddle or the Horcrux inside Potter at this moment. It was sheer fury, hatred in its purest form.

"GET AWAY!" Potter practically screamed, trying to draw his wand, but the wind pulled at him each time he let go with even one hand. "STAY AWAY FROM HIM!"

"I'm not going to hurt him, you stupid child!" Severus bellowed over the growing roar of the wind. "I'm trying to keep you BOTH from ending up dead!"

"He's lying, of course," Riddle said casually, strolling back and forth across the Tower as if to show off how easily he could move. "He'd kill anyone to save himself."

Breathing heavily, clutching at the wall, the boy gave Snape one more poisonous glare as the wind grew still stronger and looked desperately over his shoulder at Albus. "Professor, hold on! I'm coming!"

"You can't, Harry!" Albus cried, sounding genuinely anguished. He had never grown so distressed over Severus no matter how imperiled or injured he was. The observation rankled even now.

But that stupid, stubborn boy was determined to get himself killed trying to save an already-dead man. He inched slowly away from the wall toward the overlook, eyes tearing in the gale, fear naked on his face, but still he persisted. Severus tried to inch over after him and yank the little idiot back, but he was too far away; another moment and Potter would surely be swept off the Tower before he could even get close to Albus.

What came next, he should have seen coming. Albus looked despairingly at Harry, and then turned toward Severus. "Severus?"

_What could he…oh my god, no. Not again. No, never…_

"Please, Severus…" The words were deafening in his ears, echoing over and over until he wanted to scream out denial at the Dark Mark, and at Riddle. Albus looked as if he wanted to let go, but he did not seem able to. "Please, Severus…save Harry."

Potter paused in his approach, shocked. But Severus was not so much. Those words, although they had not been spoken, had hung in the air between them that night as surely as the ones Potter had heard.

_The real motive. Not Draco's salvation, not my work. Harry Potter._

Bitterness surged through him, blood from an old wound reopened; he was disgusted. After all he had done, all he had tried to do, he had wound up here again, forced to relive the worst moment of his life, all for the sake of Harry Bloody Potter! Hate and revulsion churned in his insides. He had risked his life for the boy's, now he was risking his soul for Potter's as well. Not to mention his sanity.

"Oh dear, such a dilemma," Tom Riddle said. "You didn't know that was the real reason, did you, Harry?"

Potter was looking from Albus to Severus, then back again, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. "No," he whispered, the words snatched away by Riddle's storm. "No, Professor, please…don't…"

"I have no choice, Harry," Albus said softly. "You would never understand. You have always been more valuable to the Order than I, but your feelings have a way of blinding you to that. If it becomes a choice of my life or yours…"

"No!" Potter pleaded, trembling. There were tears on his face, but not from the wind anymore. Severus was startled by the intensity of the boy's grief. "Please…not for me, I can't!"

He truly would prefer to die than to let Albus go.

And Albus knew it too. "Severus!" he cried as the boy lunged forward. "Please! Now!"

He had never refused Albus. He had never been able to. Not even now.

"_Avada_ _Kedavra!_"

Technically, Severus supposed he shouldn't have to hex a shade in a memory, but it didn't really matter now. Whether a symbolic representation or not, what would happen if Potter fell from the Tower would mean the end of both of them. So he threw the curse, saw it fling Albus over the edge just as before, and also just as before, launched himself at once into fulfilling the Headmaster's wish. To do so now, just as before, had the side benefit of forcing him to concentrate on matters other than the sight of his only friend dying by his own hand.

Potter wasn't Petrified this time, and his scream seemed like a part of the cyclone, containing enough grief and rage to consume him. He let go of the wall entirely and tried to surge over the edge after Albus, but Severus skidded across the Tower, driven by the wind, and grabbed him. His weight was enough—just enough—to pin the two of them down where the overlook wall met the floor, and the top of that wall suddenly seemed far too low and easy to fall from. Beyond the Tower, his brief glance warned him that there were no Hogwarts grounds, no earth to land upon that would fully snuff out their lives. There was only darkness, nothingness.

Something far worse than death.

Riddle must have sensed Snape's horror, because he was laughing. Potter, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their peril; he was screaming like a mad thing, thrashing and clawing at Severus, either trying to buck him off or tear out his eyes.

"No! NO! You bastard, you murdering—I'll KILL YOU! I should've—you—god, you murderer! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! GET OFF ME! GET OFF!"

Small as he was, Potter was dangerously strong when deranged by grief, and Severus could barely keep a grip on him. "Damn it, Potter, STOP IT! You're going to kill us both!"

"I don't care!" the boy screamed, trying to wrench away. "I don't care! I hate you—let me go! You killed him, you killed him! He TRUSTED YOU! YOU KILLED HIM!"

"He ASKED me to kill him, you stupid brat!" Severus shouted. "I was doing what he wished, not following my own selfish desires!"

"You're a liar!" Potter hissed. "You've never tried to protect anyone but yourself!"

Fury built up from somewhere deep inside, and Severus hauled off and hit Potter in the face, as hard as he could. "Did you miss what Albus said, you stupid, selfish brat? He died for YOU, because you were too bloody STUPID to save yourself! I had to kill him to save YOU! ALWAYS _YOU!_"

He was half-blind, hate burning him up inside, his heart blazing with rage at this creature who had been the cause of so much misery for so long. He wanted Harry Potter to suffer as he had suffered, to pay for what Albus had forced Severus to do…Severus pulled back, baring his teeth savagely, and wrapped his hands around the boy's neck.

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming Soon:_** _Trapped at the focal point of all their anger, their fears, and their pain, in the memory of a place that lives on as a never-healing wound in both their souls, both Severus and Harry of letting their future be destroyed by the demons of their past. There is still a chance of casting out the remnant of Tom Riddle, but for these two people who so loved and grieved Albus Dumbledore, survival will mean doing what now seems impossible in Chapter Eleven: Darkness!_

**Please don't forget to review!**


	11. Darkness

**_A/N:_** _Thank you all for your reviews and birthday wishes. I think this was my best birthday ever, thanks to both my readers and Real World friends. A fair warning, some of the theories I pose in this fic as explanation for the choices some characters have made may surprise you. I just used this ficpresent potential answers to a few outstanding questions in my mind._

**_REMINDER! Today is the LAST DAY to vote in the 2005 OWL Awards, found at owl dot tauri dot org! The link to all my fics on that site is on my author page, so please register and vote! Mum is also up for several categories!_**

**Chapter Eleven: Darkness**

Severus managed only one good, infinitely-satisfying squeeze at Potter's throat before the wind, almost tornadic now, practically lifted them both off the ground, about to raise them up to where they would be flung over the wall.

That brought him back to himself, and he swung one arm down around Potter, and the other over the wall to anchor them, pressing them both against it as hard as he could. "I will not let you destroy me," he hissed at the boy, not certain whether Potter heard him, and not caring whether his destruction was actually Potter's aim or not.

"Oh, but he will, Severus," he heard Riddle say somewhere behind him. "He's been on that path all his life, hasn't he? How many times have you risked your skin and your soul for his sake? Sometimes only luck was what saved you. Now here you are, still trying to hang onto him because of old Albus. Save yourself, Severus. Let the little brat fend for himself for once!"

That was a tempting thought. Potter was still struggling, the STUPID boy. If he wanted to escape Severus that badly…_just let him go. It's over. Let him go and save yourself._ He hated Potter. Potter hated him. That would never change. Potter would not thank him even if he did manage to get them out of this, just as he had never thanked him in the past. Potter would deride him just as he always had, and the Order would follow his lead. No matter what Severus did, it was never enough…

"_Severus."_

At first he thought that voice was entirely in his head, but with a startled gasp, Potter stopped trying to tear Snape to pieces and looked around. Severus too faltered, seeing no one else on the Tower, but then...Potter cried out and tried to lunge across the edge of the wall. Albus Dumbledore was hovering there, watching them, seeming perfectly real even though he was standing in the air like a ghost. He drifted back as Potter reached for him, raising a warning hand.

"Harry, no!"

Instinctively, Severus grabbed Potter, hauling him back by the hair before the wind could push him over. Riddle was laughing at them again. "Just wait, you're going to have to do that whole dance all over again. Poor dear Harry gets to watch him die, helpless, and Severus gets to kill him. How many times before one of you cracks?"

"No!" the boy wailed, pounding on the wall as though trying to break through it with his bare hands. "Please…Professor, I need you! Please!"

Albus looked desperately sad, his gaze shifting from Potter to Severus, then back to Potter. Raising his hand to the boy, he said, "I'm beyond your reach now. You cannot come with me, Harry. Please, let me go."

"I can't! I can't go on alone!"

"You are not alone," Albus told him. "You never have been. Harry…please, let Severus help you."

"NO!" Potter bared his teeth and looked at Severus with such venom that the older man was startled. Then he had to grab Potter as the wind rose again and nearly sent them both flying off to join Albus. "You're a murdering—he KILLED you! He took you!"

Severus was growing exhausted from the effort of holding onto the struggling teenager and the wall in this gale. If Potter didn't come to his senses soon, they were both done for. "Severus?"

Turning slowly, Severus looked out at Albus Dumbledore's face, now finally turned toward him. "Severus, please."

Even though he could barely hear anything over the wind and Riddle's laughter and Potter's cries, he did not bother to shout. He knew Albus would hear. "What could you possibly want now?"

"Only one thing. You know what it is. I have wanted it from you for seven years."

Frustrated, he tightened his grip on the boy and said, "I'm doing everything I can to get that bloody thing out of him, what more can I do?"

"It's not enough, Severus. You won't survive if you don't let go!"

"Don't let go!" he exclaimed, peering over the edge at the black oblivion beyond. "What the hell are you—"

Albus laughed, but it was tinged with sorrow. "I didn't mean literally, my dear potions prodigy. Please. Look at him, Severus. Just look at him."

Against his will, he did. Potter was still fighting to get free, reaching out to Dumbledore in anguish. He pushed at Severus, either imagining he could still fight or revolted at being so close to someone he hated.

"Listen to him."

Over the howl of the wind, Severus heard it. He'd tuned the boy's railings out, but now Potter was pleading with Albus. "Not for me…please, I didn't deserve it, not you. Not you too…"

In confusion, he looked up at Albus. What did he mean… "_I'm not the only one who has died before Harry's eyes, Severus. I'm not the only one who has given my life at least partly to protect his. You are not the only one who has known true pain in this war."_

It was a whisper in his mind, and with it came a barrage of memories. Severus had no idea whether they were brought out by Albus or whether he himself had dredged them up: James and Lily Potter had saved their son's life, but left him an orphan; Cedric Diggory had been murdered after taking the Triwizard Cup at his urging; Sirius Black had refused to sit and wait when his godson was in danger at the Ministry…he too had paid with his life.

Always while Harry Potter had watched, helpless. Severus had seen humiliation and loneliness in his school days…Harry had seen death. Again and again. The boy's screams when Albus had fallen earlier echoed again in Snape's mind; he had not screamed like that even when under the Cruciatus Curse from the Dark Lord.

"Please, Severus," Albus said again. "Harry is not to blame for the choices I made. He was a child."

_Right here, right now, he still is_, Severus mused, his mind moving rather slowly. Why had they arrived here and not at the moment of the Dark Lord's death, when they had confronted each other? Why had the darkness "begun" here, as the shadows in their souls had put it? Had the shock of Albus's death triggered the Horcrux?

"Not all darkness is created by the Horcrux," Albus pointed out. "It was not an outside force that turned Tom Riddle into a monster."

"Nor me, you were going to say," Severus muttered, but he understood what his mentor was trying to say. _Good God._ "I never left this place," he realized aloud. "I never have." His heart, his mind, his _soul _had remained on the tower even as he had fled Hogwarts, paralyzed and trapped in a storm of grief and hate, towards Potter, Albus, and himself for what he had done.

Albus nodded with a sad smile. "Nor has Harry. The two of you have more in common than you ever realized. Harry denied it just as you did, but he knew in his heart, as you did, the reason for my choice to die. Each of you has hated yourself for that, just as strongly as you hated and blamed each other."

"Oh, Dumbledore, stop, you're bringing tears to my eyes!"

Severus flinched, having almost forgotten that Tom Riddle was still there. He turned from Albus and growled, "If you must put your oar in, just keep trying to blow us off the Tower instead of forcing us to listen to you."

Riddle laughed, and Harry looked at him as well, trembling in either fear or anger, Severus couldn't be sure. "Really, I'm not doing anything! I'm just enjoying the show! Albus was a fool to think the two of you could ever work together, just as he's a fool to think now that you will manage to 'forgive' each other. He always was a mad old idealist."

Harry stiffened and tried to pull away again, but Severus pulled him back. "The wind," he said, as the nature of their spell-induced surroundings fell into place. "You are not causing it. We are."

"Very good!" Riddle laughed. "A nice breeze, isn't it? What's the matter, Severus, has old Albus finally converted you completely to his warm and fuzzy viewpoint? Have you forgotten the things you've seen? The things you've _done?_" He turned his attention to the boy. "Well, Harry? Ready to forgive the man who sent your godfather to his death along with dear old Dumbledore?" Harry said nothing, and Riddle returned his attention to Snape. "You do realize what Albus is about, don't you? The same as always, Severus: he's only thinking of his precious little Harry."

Severus felt his stomach lurch, and heard Harry gasp as his grip on the boy's arms tightened convulsively. Riddle smiled and drove the point deeper. "Think about it. For all his pleading and cajoling, 'Harry this, Harry that,' has he once said how much he cared for YOU? How much he loved you? Has he ever thanked you for all that you sacrificed for him? For the fact that you never ONCE refused anything he asked, even though he knew that to kill him would break your heart—or maybe he didn't know that. Maybe he really did think that you have no heart, and that he could use you as he saw fit, and then discard you like a rusted weapon."

The wind rose sharply, and Severus had to grab for the wall again to brace himself. The boy was not fighting him anymore, but he was not helping to hold them on the Tower either. Albus had been listening solemnly to Riddle, then turned to Severus, who was now looking very hard at him.

"I have made many terrible mistakes in my life, it is true, Tom. My mistakes have cost lives, and probably some souls as well, people I might have saved from your influence had I been more attentive to their needs." He sighed. "He's right, of course, Severus. I have never given you half the thanks, the praise, the love that you deserved for all you did for us. And that, I confess to you, was a horrible wrong to you. You deserved better."

"Of course, he'll say what you want to hear, you know. He always does that."

The wind rose higher, and Severus realized that Harry was now staring at Dumbledore as if he'd never seen him before. Riddle had been talking about Snape, not Harry Potter, but something in his words appeared to have struck home with him. Severus looked at him in surprise as he said to Albus, "You knew I was depending on you for…everything, after Sirius died. You told Remus to stay away from me; you sent him away. You spent all that time with me, and all the while, you were planning to get killed." The boy shook in Snape's grasp, and the wind grew. "You knew what it would do to me, you must have known. You knew it would drive me, to find the Horcruxes and destroy them, and to do whatever I had to to kill Voldemort, no matter how dark the spell or how violent…you knew I didn't want to kill anyone, not even him…it was all to push me…"

"—Over the edge. Right you are, Harry. Manipulative old puppeteer, isn't he?"

The wind began to shriek across the top of the Tower again, buffeting Severus as he fought to keep himself and Harry anchored. "You know," Riddle said cheerfully, tossing bits of stone from the tower into the wind and watching them blow away. "Neither of you know about one of Albus's best schemes."

Without thinking, Severus asked him, "What are you talking about?"

"Why," Riddle smiled at him. "The Pensieve, of course! Your tragically-abortive Occlumency lessons, brought to a premature and ultimately fatal end when Harry's curiosity got the better of him. Oh, go on, Albus, really, it's only fair that you make a full confession of your sins. That's what's required for _forgiveness, _am I right? Let's see if their generous natures can understand your reasons and let them forgive you."

Slowly, Severus turned back toward Albus, feeling a cold lump of dread settle within. Harry was finally coming to his senses enough to hold onto the wall as well, but he too wanted to hear the Headmaster's explanation. "What about the Pensieve?" the boy whispered.

Albus lowered his eyes. "Simply put, when Severus objected to teaching you Occlumency on the grounds that he had certain memories he did not wish you to see, I suggested the Pensieve."

"Why?" Severus demanded, but then Harry recoiled.

"Curiosity is not a sin…" the boy breathed.

"What?"

Harry met his eyes, for once without any ire directed at Severus, and said, "He told me curiosity is not a sin, but I should…exercise caution, when I…I looked in it during my fourth year. He left me alone in his office during the Triwizard Tournament, and it was just sitting there, and I looked. I was just curious about what it was." The wind scream was so loud that Severus was almost deafened. Harry's eyes were distant, lost in memory as the truth came together in his mind. "My fifth year…he wouldn't tell me anything—he TOLD them all not to tell me anything! He said it was to protect me but I was going mad trying to understand what was going on and I knew what a Pensieve was used for and I thought—YOU KNEW!" he screamed over the gale at Albus, who closed his eyes. "YOU WANTED ME TO LOOK!"

With one last cry of denial, the boy broke down. Severus tightened his grip, and Harry still struggled, but he was losing the will to fight. "Lemme go," he sobbed, pounding on Snape's chest. "Please, just let me go! I can't…" It wasn't merely grief behind the boy's tears; his sobs had a furious tone to them as they wrenched from his body. Severus held onto him, bracing them both against the wall, and struggled to clear his mind. He had to focus somehow, to stop the wind…but he could not begin to concentrate enough over what he was hearing. How could he feel anything but betrayal sizzling like acid through his veins, burning away all his beliefs and all his faith in the one man on earth he had thought cared for him.

There were many things he ought to say, many things he ought to concentrate on, but only one word could find its way out of his heart and his mouth: "Why?"

Apparently, Albus knew better than to try to excuse himself. "Because I wanted Harry to understand you better." Harry looked astonished, and Severus was gritting his teeth to hold on to the wall as the wind grew still stronger, but Albus went on, "It is all true, and that is the reason—no more, no less. Perhaps an act of inexcusable meddling on my part—"

"_Perhaps?_" Severus and Harry chorused, and they were both nearly lifted off the stones again, each holding on by only their hands.

"THINK, Severus, Harry, look at what is happening!" Albus cried, holding out a hand. "Tom has distracted you to the point where you don't realize that your hate is moments from killing you both! You don't have much time!"

The wind lessened a little, but not much. "What am I supposed to think now?" Severus demanded, trying to concentrate on holding on to the wall and to understand what Albus had done at the same time.

"Think of Harry."

Severus blinked, then realized he was no longer holding onto the boy, and grabbed for him. Harry grunted, but no longer fought, and joined Snape's efforts to pull them back down. The wind died a little more.

"That's a tidy distraction on your end, Albus—"

"Shut up!" Harry yelled over his shoulder, and, incredibly, Severus felt a desire to laugh. The boy's cheek had alternatingly disgusted and enraged him for years, but at the moment, it was amusing. He'd been the same on that last day even as the Dark Lord tortured him—it had driven the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters absolutely mad, to be unable to break the will of one mouthy seventeen-year-old.

"Settle outstanding grievances some other time, my boys," Albus called to them, his voice reaching them despite the wind noise and Riddle's taunts. "You know the way to save yourselves."

His free arm shaking as he tried to keep his grip on the wall while also holding onto Severus, Harry muttered, "I never thought of that…I guess I didn't think it was an emotion…"

_Merlin's beard._ Nor had Severus.

_What now? Do I say 'I'm sorry I made your life as miserable as possible' and hope he responds in kind?_ Somehow, he knew that would not be enough to erase the searing emotions that had built up for years, both in himself and in Harry Potter.

"Severus, I was to blame," Albus said. "You know that now. If learning of the things I've done can give you any ease, let it be that: it was not…Harry's…fault. I was the arrogant one, not him."

The wind was picking up. Severus growled in frustration, not knowing what he could be expected to do—then Harry looked up at him, his jaw set, and Severus recognized the look in his green eyes. The boy felt used. He felt betrayed.

_Manipulated, controlled, deceived, deluded…abandoned…_

Disillusioned.

_I know EXACTLY how you feel._

Meeting Snape's gaze, Harry knew it too. Albus Dumbledore, the man whom either one of them would have willingly died for, had led them here, left them here, and neither of them had known what to do afterwards. They had been left to struggle through the rest of the war, without guidance but with plenty of pain. And Albus had known it would be that way. He had intended it that way.

_And here we are._ Fighting for their very souls against a remnant of Lord Voldemort—_Bloody hell, I said it!_—that they'd been unable to destroy alone. _Right where you left us._

The wind had lessened a great deal. Severus pulled Harry more firmly to him, which gave the boy a moment to wipe at his eyes. But when they tried to get up, they were still pushed back toward the edge, so they dropped down again.

"Sorry, gentlemen, it's not enough," Riddle informed them. "Somehow you've got to manage to forgive _Albus_ for all his pretty tricks. It's amazing how fast people can forgive each other when they wind up with a common enemy."

"If that were true, we'd have done it back when you came along," Harry retorted wearily, but Severus turned to Albus.

"Was it for 'the greater good,' then?"

Albus shook his head. "Well, that is not precisely how I thought of it."

"How did you?"

"It was to win the war. I knew my chances of reaching the end alive were slim—and I told you the truth when I said that each of you were more valuable to the Order than myself. The Order could and did survive without me."

"And you knew your dying would tear us both apart, didn't you?" Harry said bitterly.

"I knew how painful it would be, yes," Albus admitted. "And part of that was, I admit, an entirely selfish reason."

Severus blinked, and Harry frowned in confusion. "What?"

With another sad smile, Albus told them, "I have nothing left to give the two of you but the absolute truth. So I hope you will believe me: I did not have the strength to face the loss of either of you. Voldemort would soon be demanding that Severus destroy either you, Harry, or me, possibly both of us. If Severus failed in that, he would die."

"But Voldemort ordered Draco Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed.

Something died inside Severus, and he could not stop himself from speaking. "I made the Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco. To aid him in his assignment. Only after I made the Vow did I learn what that assignment was."

Harry jerked away from him in horror as the wind rose yet again, but Albus cried, "Harry, please, listen! Draco was never meant to succeed in that assignment! Voldemort intended it as a death sentence, not for me, but for him."

The boy stared from Albus back to Severus. "I don't understand."

"You saw him in the bathroom that day," Severus muttered. "He could not get close enough to the Headmaster to destroy him, not without forfeiting his own life. His death was meant to be a punishment for Lucius Malfoy, for failing to obtain the prophecy concerning you."

"And by making the Unbreakable Vow, Severus took that burden from Draco to himself, Harry," Albus went on. "As soon as he discovered what Draco's task was, he told me. I had a choice to make, as the man charged with protecting Draco, my student, and Severus, although to call him my 'employee' is a gross undervalue of what he was to us all. If Severus did not fulfill the Vow, his own life would be forfeit. And Draco would most likely fail in his assignment, which would mean his death as well. If Severus enabled Draco to carry it out, their lives would be spared, but Draco would be a murderer, and his chances of protection from our side gone. Or, if I were to die by a hand other than Draco's, he might yet have that chance, and Severus's position in Voldemort's circle would be preserved."

Severus knew all this, of course—Albus had laid it out before him multiple times that year—and he felt Harry's eyes on him as he looked over the wall at the nothingness beyond. Harry swallowed thickly, then said, "But you said there was a selfish reason."

Severus looked up, and Albus nodded. "Oh yes. I knew that I would leave each of you with a terrible burden on your hearts, as close as each of you had been to me, and I to you. But I was selfish in that I did not have the courage to face that burden myself: I had the chance, that very night, to save my life at the cost of each of yours, but I could not. On top of all the other reasons, the simplest answer of all is that I loved you both too much. I would rather have died than be left to mourn you."

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you, Albus?"

"Shut up!" Severus and Harry both snapped at Riddle—but neither of them had missed the sudden drop in his confidence. His tone was a little shaky.

"Oh, Tom's quite right, as I said," Albus admitted. "I have manipulated you, pushed and prodded you, thrown you both into situations for which you were entirely unprepared, and put your lives and your sanity at terrible risk on many occasions. I have hurt you both deeply. You have every right to be angry with me—anger is not a dark emotion. Nor is hurt. You need not push all those feelings away. And it is true," he said, gliding closer to the Tower, "that much of what I have done is unforgiveable, perhaps most of all the manner in which I abandoned you both to your pain. But when it comes right down to it, the only true defense I can offer is that I knew my death would give each of you a fighting chance, and that I was a selfish old man who had already lost too many of his children."

Severus closed his eyes. Harry sobbed once more, then Riddle screamed. Both of them spun around to see the wind that had been battering them until now converging into a violent, tornadic cyclone around the specter. It began to sparkle, brighter and brighter, until a cyclone of dazzling light was in front of them, forcing them both to shield their eyes.

Harry flinched against the wall and groaned. "Hold on," Severus said, shielding the boy with his own body. Not that it did much good—even though the spells of the exorcism had joined their minds and souls to fight the Horcrux, it was _Harry_ who was inhabited by the thing. The power of the magic now driving the dark fragment out was undoubtedly hurting him. "Hold on," Severus repeated. Harry's jaw was clenched, his eyes shut tight as his physical body and magical core attacked the intruder within him in a blast of pure, white-hot magic. "This is it."

The funnel of light narrowed, spiraling upward into the Dark Mark that hovered above the Astronomy Tower, like a backwards bolt of lightning, and then with one more sizzling burst of light and heat, the Mark and Riddle were gone.

Harry was curled up against the Tower wall, trembling, and Severus looked down at him. "Are you all right?"

The boy opened his eyes and wiped his face with the back of his hand, taking a shaky breath. "Yeah, I…I think so."

They staggered to their feet, using each other for balance. The darkness surrounding the Tower was parting like a black fog, and the Hogwarts grounds were coming into view below them, and the stars overhead. Severus looked at Harry and blinked—the boy in front of him was older than the one who had been there a moment ago. Not that much taller, but…he was definitely the Harry Potter who had walked into the private ward with Snape for the exorcism. With a trembling hand, Severus pulled back the left sleeve of his robe…the Mark had faded to a pale outline, as it had been after the Dark Lord's death. Severus took a deep breath, noticed Harry staring, and covered it again.

"It's over."

"We still have to get out of here," Harry pointed out. He looked exhausted.

"The door is right there," Severus informed him, and kept a hand on the boy's shoulder, partly out of worry that he might disappear again, as he guided him to it. _After all, neither one of us has been able to find this door until now._

* * *

Through the door, Harry gasped when he found himself not on the Tower stairs but in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. He spun toward Snape, fearful that he might have disappeared again, but the man's hand was still firmly on his shoulder—though Snape too looked surprised.

The Great Hall was full of people, chatting, eating, studying, just as if it were an ordinary day at Hogwarts—well, before the whole world had gone to hell, that is. "Where are we?" Harry blurted.

"Where does it look like?" demanded a voice behind them, and they turned to see Ron grinning at them.

"Welcome back, Harry," said Hermione. "We've missed you. You made it."

Snape was frowning as he looked toward the Slytherin table, and Harry saw Draco Malfoy there, eating and talking cheerfully to Blaise Zabini and other Slytherins. "Whose soul is this?"

"Either," said Fred.

"Neither," said George.

"Both?" offered Ron.

"It doesn't really matter," Ginny said, coming to join them. "It's neither here nor there."

Harry shook his head. "You lot never make any sense, you know." He felt very shaky, but not cold or stalked the way he had during the Seeing or the first exorcism. "Do you know the way out?" he asked Snape.

"I believe it is a simple matter of ending the spell."

"Good," he said, and Snape looked sharply at him as he shivered. "I'm not…feeling so well."

"Better hurry," Hermione agreed. "You've come too far to lose it now."

Snape nodded. "I quite agree. Give me your hands." They joined palms as they had at the start of the exorcism, and Harry looked over his shoulder at the head table. His heart lurched; Dumbledore was sitting there, watching them. The Headmaster smiled and raised his glass to them. Harry wanted to talk to him, but he was shivering so hard he couldn't keep still. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Snape glanced past him, stiffening at the sight of Dumbledore, but then returned his attention to Harry. "Hold on!"

There was another flash of very hot light, but this one seemed to consume them. And then the world went black.

* * *

The first thing Severus noticed upon waking was that the fumes of those damned herbs were burning his nostrils again. He hated spell residue.

The second thing he noticed was that he was not sitting up as he'd been at the start of the exorcism, but slumped on his side on a very hard stone floor…and his arms were wrapped around a warm, trembling body. He forced his eyes open.

Harry was in his arms, shivering, his face pressed into Snape's robes. Alarmed, Severus fumbled for his pulse, his movements slow and clumsy, and the boy looked up. His green eyes were glassy, and he was extremely pale. The smoke was making him cough.

It was hard for Severus to speak; his throat felt parched and seared. "Harry?" he rasped. "Are y—hurt?"

Harry blinked at him. "Whad' you call me?" he mumbled, sounding very drowsy.

"Wake up," Severus grunted, trying to rise, but he couldn't begin to control his body enough to do it. "Harry…hear me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Stay awake." Severus coughed violently, and his head pounded in protest. "You need…stay awake."

He wasn't sure if Harry had heard him or not. "Di't work?" he murmured, eyes drifting closed.

"Yes. Harry, wake up. 's over."

"Yeah…done."

Severus felt an inkling of alarm wriggling through the fog in his brain. "Harry? Stay with me!"

"'m here…"

"Have to…wake up." If only he could get his limbs under control, but he couldn't manage more than a rather weak shaking. "Harry?" The smoke was finally starting to clear, but he felt no more alert, and if he lost consciousness, what of his charge?

"Sir?" Harry mumbled, looking up at him with bleary eyes.

Severus tried to concentrate, to summon up enough magic to get the door open, to tell the Order that it was finished so they could help the boy. Harry could not die here, not now. "Mm?"

"Was thinking…"

"Stay awake, Harry," he gasped, trying to focus on the door.

But Harry wanted to tell him something. Severus felt him tug on his robes. "Should've said…I know you're…not a…coward."

Severus paused, startled, but the emotions evoked by those words were chased away by groggy panic as Harry's eyes fluttered. "Harry…Harry, wake up…"

He managed to get an arm under Harry's back, pulling him closer and trying desperately to shake him awake, but with a deep sigh, the boy went limp.

_No…_

"Harry?" he hissed weakly, trying to jostle him again, but the boy didn't respond. "Harry, don't…now…" He put a hand to Harry's face, then paused: there was a faint movement of air against his fingers. Harry was breathing, not the last breaths of the dying but the slow, even rhythm of sleep. He'd stopped shivering. Trembling himself now, Severus fumbled for a pulse. It was there. Merlin's beard, it was there, slow but strong.

Harry had survived. The Horcrux was gone. Harry would live.

Severus focused as best he could on the bleary view of the door, then finally gave up trying to open it wandlessly and just Vanished it. That worked, and the smoke finally dispersed completely.

Shadowy figures came into the room, but Severus could not see well enough to identify any of them. When they bent close to him and the still form in his arms, Severus mumbled at them.

"It's done. He made it."

And then he slept.

_**To be continued…**_

_**Coming Soon: **The Order ponders how the spell played out while Harry and Snape are healing in the hospital wing. Snape faces down the demons of his past, and Harry struggles to come to terms with the nightmare he has been living in Chapter Twelve: Shadows!_

**We're almost to the end! PLEEEASE Don't Forget To Review—and Vote!**


	12. Shadow

_**A/N: **I know, I've kept you all waiting forever, but at last it is here: your update! Many apologies for the long interval, dear readers, but I've had quite a rough few months myself—law school was determined to make me miserable for every last second. But now, at last, it is done! I finished my last exam last week, and will be graduating this coming Sunday, May 22nd, with that coveted J.D. I never thought I'd make it! Thank you all for your patience and reviews, and please keep them coming! Mum will be arriving to watch me walk in Commencement this weekend, and we will have the better part of the summer together! _

_**Small Edit:** I originally flubbed the canon regarding the curse on the Defense teaching position, but I've fixed it. Thanks to those who pointed it out._

_**Special Note:** I have included a little tribute to my beloved Georgetown Gilbert & Sullivan Society in this chapter, in honor of my last show with them. Can anyone find it? And I have a double update for your reading pleasure: **International Magical Co-operation** is also updated today! So without further ado, here it is…_

**Chapter Twelve: Shadow**

"Severus? Severus, do you hear me?"

A sense of great urgency seized him almost as soon as he awoke, but his body refused to return to alertness quickly. Despite repeated attempts, Severus could not manage speech; all that escaped his mouth was a groan. But there was something he had to know—what it was, he could not quite recall—but his return to conscious thought was bringing with it the knowledge that something was left undone, something he had to learn of…

"Severus?" It was Minerva. "Are you awake?"

His eyelids felt leaden, but he finally forced them open. The Headmistress of Hogwarts was at his bedside, bending over him. He blinked, and she smiled. "Welcome back."

That she was warm to him seemed a good sign, but there was one thing he had to know before all else. "Harry…"

"What? I can't hear you, Severus."

He took a deep breath. His chest ached. "Harry…safe?"

"Harry…" she frowned, then her eyes widened. "Oh, yes. Yes, he is safe. He's still asleep."

She did not sound worried, to his relief. He closed his eyes for several moments, and when he looked again, his vision was clearer. "It's over, Minerva," he sighed. "Completely over."

Minerva smiled and patted his hand. "I always believed you would be with us in the end."

He grimaced inwardly. "I regret that I was not with you _to_ the end."

Minerva watched her old friend drift off again, and smiled thoughtfully. "Harry."

* * *

"How much longer do you think he'll sleep?" Hermione mused, putting her arms around Ron from behind and resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Dunno," Ron replied. "Hasn't stirred." He glanced over at the bed across the wing. "I guess Snape's all right."

"He actually sounded worried about Harry," said Fred.

Ron shot the twins a skeptical look. "Probably because he knows it's his head if Harry didn't make it."

"He saved Harry's life Ron," Ginny said.

"So I won't ask for his head," Ron said stubbornly. "Doesn't mean I have to like him."

The object of their discussion had been awake on and off over the past forty-eight hours, long enough for Madam Pomfrey to make him eat and give him Healing Draughts. That was more than could be said for Harry, who was practically comatose, but the mediwitch said his vitals were stable, and this was to be expected after a ritual as taxing as an exorcism. So Harry's friends were content to wait for him to recover. They stayed in the hospital wing all day and took turns sitting by his bedside at night, in case he woke up or had bad dreams. So far, neither had happened; Harry simply slept.

Late that evening, Ron was sitting in a Transfigured armchair beside his friend, half-dozing, when someone brushed past and bent over Harry. He drowsily glanced up, then sat up sharply when he realized it was Snape. Madam Pomfrey was there as well, watching, which forestalled Ron from challenging the former professor, but he still didn't like the idea of Snape touching Harry.

Harry moved slightly when Snape put a hand on his forehead, then the man turned to Pomfrey. "He is feverish," he said accusingly.

Ron jumped to his feet in alarm, glared at them both, then felt Harry's face to see for himself. Snape was right: Harry was warm.

Madam Pomfrey calmly passed both of them and examined Harry herself. "It's not dangerously high. His body and his magic are reorienting themselves to the absence of the Horcrux as well as recovering from the exorcism. The fever will break as his strength returns."

Ron frowned, not certain whether to accept that. To his surprise, Snape looked doubtful as well, but Madam Pomfrey didn't seem worried. When she departed, he and Snape were left standing there in uncomfortable silence. Snape looked at him as if wondering what he was doing there, so he sat back in the chair, daring Snape to question him. Snape cast another long look at Harry, then slowly walked away.

* * *

Harry woke for the first time the next day.

Severus was still in the hospital wing and occasionally went to check on him, but Ronald Weasley kept a near-constant vigil at Harry's bedside and glared fiercely anytime Snape came in their direction. However, the boy was so distracted with excitement once Harry's eyelids started to flutter that he didn't notice Severus coming up behind Madam Pomfrey to see what was happening.

"Ronald, step aside and let her work!" exclaimed the Headmistress when Weasley seemed reluctant to relinquish his position at Harry's side. He finally made way for Poppy, but continued making a pest of himself by leaning over her shoulder.

"Harry, dear, can you hear me?" Poppy called.

Ginevra Weasley sidled up next to Severus, but her eyes were on the boy. Regaining consciousness seemed a near-impossible feat at the moment; Harry moved only slightly. Someone was breathing raggedly near the foot of the bed, and Severus glanced back to see that it was Lupin. The Weasley girl noticed, and suggested, "Let Remus try."

"It can't hurt," Poppy said with a shrug, and beckoned Lupin forward.

The werewolf seemed to be having a hard time controlling his emotions. "Harry? Time to wake up," he whispered. A faint groan was his only response, but then Harry's eyes opened, bleary and unfocused. Lupin's breath caught. "Hey, lad. How're you feeling?"

Harry turned his pale face toward Lupin, barely moving his head, then drew a weak breath. No real sound came out when his lips moved, but they all knew what he said: "Remus?"

Sniffling, Lupin stroked his hair. "I'm here, Harry." The boy turned his head slightly toward the werewolf's touch with a contented sigh. "Good to have you back."

Green eyes drifted closed, but then opened again, and Severus was startled to find himself meeting Harry's weary gaze. He ought to say something, he thought, some courtesy or inquiry into how the boy was feeling…but nothing would come out. Potter was also silent, so either he was too groggy to speak or he couldn't come up with anything to say either. What was there to be said after what they had experienced?

Assuming Harry even remembered it at the moment, for he was rapidly drifting off again. Poppy gave Lupin a Healing Draught to feed to the boy, and he was out only moments after finishing it. "I think that's all we're going to get out of him at the moment."

"He's still warm," said Lupin, frowning.

"The fever hasn't gone up. He should show a steady improvement."

They had to be satisfied with that. Ron Weasley resumed his seat by the bedside (and also resumed his warning glare at Severus.) "Ronald!" hissed Granger, but with a snort, Severus walked away.

To his surprise, Lupin came after him. "Don't mind Ron, Severus. He's been frantic."

Looking back at the werewolf in disgust, Severus replied, "I have never minded that boy before, and I have no intention of doing so now." Lupin just smiled indulgently, and Severus snorted again. That man always believed he was doing Snape some kind of favor. And since when did the worries of Ronald Weasley hold any concern for Severus at all?

However, very late that night, he wondered if perhaps he should rethink his views of the youngest Weasley son.

Harry's fever hadn't broken, but he did seem somewhat stronger. Severus too was feeling much more himself, and he was sitting in his bed, reading a Potions journal, when faint sounds reached him from across the wing. He rose and saw Weasley sitting up as well, looking at Harry. The boy had begun tossing and whimpering in his sleep.

As Snape watched, Weasley shook him awake, but it startled them both when Harry burst back into consciousness and began babbling in panic about Voldemort and Dumbledore or whatever it was that plagued his dreams. Severus rose and started toward them, but Weasley grabbed his friend in a bear hug and forced his flailing limbs under control.

"HEY! You're in the hospital wing! Take it easy, mate!"

Despite Harry's hysteria, Ron was stronger and held the smaller boy until sense returned to him. Harry shuddered violently when Ron let him go and curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be stupid; you've got nothing to be sorry for," Ron replied.

Harry closed his eyes. "'cept for being completely barking mad?" At Ron's startled expression, he said plaintively, "Well, I am, aren't I?"

Ron seized Harry's wrists and retorted, "No, you're not mad, possessed, or anything else. You just won a ruddy war!" Harry blinked rapidly and looked away, but Ron jerked at his arms until he met his friend's eyes again. "We're not letting you give up now."

With a pinched expression, Harry whispered, "I'm trying, I just…I feel like I'm getting ripped apart. From the inside, like I'm…out of control."

Ron hesitated for a moment, then threw his arms around Harry again, to Snape's surprise. "It's gonna get better," he said fiercely. Harry faltered, but then returned Ron's embrace. "I've got you, mate. You'll be okay. It's all over."

Harry sighed, calmer now, and Ron let him go. "Is it really?" he murmured.

"Course, it is!"

"That's what I thought when he died," Harry remarked bitterly. "It never ends."

"It has this time," Ron told him firmly. "I promise, mate."

Harry laughed shakily at that, and Ron put an arm around him again. "Promise?"

"Right. Promise. If anyone says different, I'll kick his arse."

That made Harry laugh more easily, and twenty minutes later, he was asleep again. Ron was balanced rather precariously on the edge of the bed with his friend's weight on his shoulder, and when he noticed Severus watching them, he glared. That was his usual reaction to Snape's offensive presence anywhere near Harry, but for once, Severus found that it did not rankle as it usually did.

* * *

Harry's fever broke the next day, and his recovery was finally clear to even the most fretful of his friends. However, his sleep was still interrupted by too-frequent nightmares.

In that at least, Severus could relate, for he too found his dreams returning often to the lightning-struck Tower—both the physical and its psychological counterpart. He had said little to the Order about the form the exorcism had taken, and their frustration had been obvious when Harry had not been any more forthcoming. Of course, none of them were willing to press the boy about it yet, but as far as most of them were concerned, Snape's silence on the subject was grounds for suspicion. Not a one of them had changed their opinion of him since the Horcrux's destruction.

And yet, as before, that did not leave him without allies.

A few nights later, Ginevra Weasley was keeping vigil at Harry's bedside when the boy began tossing in his sleep again. Severus watched her soothe him with whispers and caresses, but although Harry calmed, he decided to look for himself.

Ginevra saw him coming, but made no protest; she just watched inscrutably without a word as he lifted the boy's wrist to check his pulse and temperature. He did not volunteer his thoughts on Harry's condition, and she did not ask, but her eyes remained on him even after he walked away, and he felt as though some understanding had passed between them.

* * *

The first few days after the exorcism were never very clear in Harry's memory. Even though he was asleep through most of it, his dreams had been a confused mass of recollections, fears, and imaginings. It was hard to determine what had been real and what hadn't. Ginny and Hermione fussing over him…that was probably real, Remus and Mrs. Weasley too, Ron hugging him…maybe. But he also thought he remembered Snape bending over him or sitting beside him, or, sometimes, talking to him. Well, that was probably a dream.

Still, he knew what had happened during the exorcism wasn't a dream. That memory was just plain scary. He had hurt so badly…in so many ways, he didn't like to think about it. But he had to, for a reason.

Snape had been released from the hospital wing already, which made it difficult to find him. Harry still wasn't quite up to moving around much, and his friends weren't inclined to let him wander off on his own for very long—well, at all, actually. He finally enlisted the twins to get Ron, Hermione, and the others outside for a bit so he could have some peace and take the opportunity to escape for awhile.

He was walking out of the hospital wing when Snape appeared in the hall approaching it.

Snape stopped, startled, as did Harry. The former professor recovered first. "Mr. Potter. Back on your feet, I see."

Harry swallowed against his suddenly-dry throat. "Yeah, more or less. Madam Pomfrey said you weren't hurt?"

"Nothing permanent," Snape replied. Harry nodded weakly, staring at the floor, and felt Snape's eyes on him. "Perhaps you should return to the hospital wing."

Harry sighed. "I'm getting sick of that place," he muttered, but didn't feel like arguing. He let Snape walk him back to his bed.

"Where are your friends?" Snape asked as he sat down and put his feet up.

"I convinced them I didn't need a minder all the time." He heard what sounded like a chuckle and took a deep breath. "I…I haven't…thanked you. Sir. For…everything you did."

Snape was silent for a long time, and Harry finally forced himself to look at the man's face. This was the only decent thing to do. He'd known it since he woke. "I'd never have survived without you," he said quietly. "I forgot everything as soon as I saw…"

Snape glanced away. "I too forgot," he admitted. "You were not alone in that."

"You remembered sooner than I did," Harry pointed out. "I almost got us both killed."

"It was not I who…" Snape abruptly stopped, and Harry looked at him in surprise, realizing what he meant.

"I've been wondering," he said. "If I didn't known about…those things…and you didn't know, how did the exorcism? How did Riddle?"

Impatiently, Snape answered, "I have no idea. In any case, it matters little now. You should rest."

He got up to leave, but Harry blurted out, "I know you're not a coward!" Snape looked back, and he added, "Sir. I knew a long time ago." He felt himself blushing.

Snape's face was blank, his eyes unreadable, but after staring at Harry for a moment, he said, "Nor are you."

It sounded as if he didn't believe Harry meant it, so Harry muttered, "I couldn't have done it." He quickly looked down at the bedclothes. "No matter how much was at stake, I couldn't have done what he wanted."

"He would not have asked that of you," Snape told him. "He did not view you as a weapon against Voldemort."

Harry jumped up, catchig himself on the back of an abandoned chair. "He didn't view you like that!" Snape looked dubious, but he pressed, "I know that much. The night he died—the real night, I mean. He wanted me to get you after we saw the Tower."

It was obvious that Snape hadn't had any idea what had gone on before he got to the Tower that night; he seemed astonished. But when he turned away to leave again, Harry didn't try to stop him.

* * *

Severus half-wondered if Albus's portrait had been using the other portraits to spy on him until he talked to Potter. Then again, there was no real wondering about it. The late headmaster's smile was rather sad as he regarded his former pupil from a painting in the dungeon.

"So you've beaten him at last, Severus."

Without looking at him, Snape replied, "Are you going to say you told me so?"

"Of course not. You and Harry deserve nothing but praise. Both of you overcame a great deal."

Severus turned sharply toward the portrait. "You engineered it, didn't you? That final 'confession' of your sins…what did you do, plant it in one of the memories you gave to Potter?"

"Right in one, my dear Severus. You and Harry deserved to know."

"And easing your conscience had nothing to do with it," Severus retorted. "And what made you think Harry would tell me?"

"Once he knew the truth about you, he would," Albus said, with absolute confidence.

"He knew before the end of the war, and we nearly killed each other," said Severus.

"He knew the facts then, not the truth. He did not understand your choices, nor vice versa."

Severus grabbed an empty vial and threw it at the portrait, watching it shatter against the frame. "Your bloody meddling and manipulating nearly destroyed both of us!"

Albus was unfazed by his anger. "I don't deny it. I had realized by the end how much pain I had put you through—both of you—but I could think of no way to set it right that did not one last act of meddling. I implanted my message in the memories, but spelled it so that it would not come to the surface until Harry confronted the Horcrux."

"You _knew_ he was the Horcrux!" Severus exclaimed, stunned. "You…Albus, damn it, were you _trying_ to get the child killed?"

"Of course not," the portrait said. "I knew the dangers, I do not deny that. And I knew the pain he would go through. But I kept it from him for the same reason I made you swear to stay with him: so the two of you would have to face it together."

"Why?" Severus asked, even though he suspected he knew. "Why me and not Minerva or Lupin? Any one of the Order could have worked with him more easily than I."

"It's true they all love him," said Albus. "But Harry alone has more than enough love in him to confound Voldemort. His victory in battle was proof of that. But no other in the Order could make him see what else was needed."

"To forgive," Severus sighed.

"Not just forgive. To face down the darkness and ugliness of his emotions. That required courage, Severus—a quality no one in the Order possesses in such quantities as you. Harry would have been destroyed by that remnant but for you. One alone could not have done it."

Severus glared at him. "What made you so certain we would not destroy each other?"

"You and Harry have long misdirected your anger and blame toward each other, rather than where it rightfully belonged." Albus didn't have to say it for Severus to know who he meant. "I used both of you very ill. Unforgivably."

Turning his gaze to one of the enchanted windows, Severus muttered, "Do you expect me to disagree with you?" Albus did not answer. "It's a miracle we were able to defeat the thing at all, after what you'd done."

"By telling you the truth of the matter, I enabled you to forgive not just Harry, but yourself, Severus. That is how you defeated him."

Hot anger burst to life inside Severus, bitter resentment at the years he had spent as an instrument to the whims of this self-righteous old man. "Does that leave your conscience clear, then?" he hissed, rounding on the portrait. "The fact that we survived? Do you congratulate yourself at the genius of your master plan?"

He had never placed much stock in the idea that magic portraits could feel and think as humans did, all evidence to the contrary, but the expression on the old headmaster's face was so sorrowful that it took him aback. "I have been cruel to you, my boy, but not without remorse. Do you think I did not go to my grave bitterly aware of what my machinations would cost you, and how you and Harry would feel once you learned what I had done? I knew that even as I tried to save your lives that I would lose your love."

* * *

When Severus returned to the hospital wing to tell Harry what Albus had said, the boy was quiet for a long time. At length, he asked, "Did he send you to tell me?"

"No," Severus replied. "I thought you should know."

Harry was still convalescent, but able to move more each day. With a blanket draped over his shoulders, he went to the window and gazed out at the wintry landscape. "Did you believe what he said, in the Tower? That he did it because he loved us?"

Bluntly, Severus said, "I don't know. I no longer believe I knew him well enough to understand his decisions." Harry looked distressed by that, but he nodded.

"When he died, I thought…it felt like I'd lost someone who really cared, in a way…that no one else ever had." Severus knew well what he meant. "If anyone else had told me about the Pensieve, I'd have called them a liar."

"So would I," Severus admitted.

Harry turned and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry I looked at the memory. It wasn't my business." He sighed. "I just wanted to see my father."

The idea of saying, "I forgive you" or some other equally-conciliatory phrase went against the grain for Severus, so he simply nodded. He supposed that there were certain apologies he ought to make to the boy, but that too went against his instincts, so he said nothing of his own role in their quarrel. But if Harry noticed, he didn't remark on it.

He pondered the young man beside him, recalling the things Albus had said, and how Harry had reacted in the Tower. _You never believed him capable of such action, did you?_

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Harry looked at him in surprise. "Did you?"

"I knew he could be ruthless."

Harry's green eyes, large and at that moment, sad, suddenly seemed to go right through him. "I guess you would. He used you."

"That was the norm. I expected to be used for the sake of the Order," he said, not wanting the boy's pity.

Or perhaps it wasn't pity. Harry looked defensive. "I didn't mean whether it was bad or not. Just that he did."

Severus nodded acknowledgment, and an uncomfortable silence descended. He finally asked the boy, "What do you mean to do now? Once you're recovered, that is."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I was going to ask you the same, actually."

"That depends on you, if you will recall."

"What? Oh, you mean the—don't be stupid!"

The assumption on Harry's part surprised Severus, and he pointed out, "My debt to you and Albus has not been discharged by these events, Potter."

"Yes, it HAS!"

Harry sounded so distressed by this development that Severus hastened to mollify him. "I have no resentment on that score."

The boy blinked. "What?"

"I explained the terms of my amnesty to you after the battle with Voldemort; you may not remember. My service to Dumbledore, and at his orders, to you, will never end."

Shaking his head, Harry protested, "I do remember, but you've saved my life more times than I can…it's not fair. You're not a slave."

"No, I am merely bound to my word. It is my decision, not yours."

"And now you want me to decide for you!" Harry accused.

"You need not, decide for yourself," Severus replied, refraining from reaction to the boy's indignation. "With your penchant for getting into trouble, I've no doubt I can come up with means of assisting you."

The thought did not seem to be even half-tempting Harry. Rather, he looked ill at the idea. _You are a strange child, to be so repulsed by unfettered power._ But Harry wouldn't look at him. So he finally left the boy alone with his thoughts, wondering idly whether Albus had known that Harry would see Snape's bond to him as nothing but a burden. _Perhaps not. I begin to think Albus didn't understand that boy half as well as he thought he did._

* * *

A day or so later, Headmistress McGonagall gave Harry a message from the Ministry. "Minister Scrimgeour has thoughts of presenting you with a medal, if you are amenable to a public ceremony."

Harry stared at her until he realized she wasn't joking, while the rest of the Order looked on. He grappled in vain for a diplomatic way to put it, but finally gave up and blurted out, "I think I'd rather die!"

Nearly everyone burst out laughing. "That's a Galleon you owe me, Lupin," Moody crowed.

Harry tried to remain disgruntled, but failed and grinned sheepishly. He did ask Remus, "What did you think I'd say?"

"Something more diplomatic," laughed Remus. "No matter. At least it's further proof you're on the mend."

Hermione plunked herself down onto Harry's bed, further squishing him between Ron and Ginny. "So what are you going to do with yourself now that you're done fighting Voldemort in all his various incarnations?"

Harry shrugged and squirmed past his friends so he could stretch his legs. "Haven't really had a chance to think about it until now."

"I promised you some time ago that I would assist you in entering the Auror Program, Mr. Potter," said the Headmistress. "I will not hesitate to stand by that."

Everyone looked expectantly at Harry. He faltered, having not considered his old desire to become an Auror in a long time. "I…dunno, really," he mused.

Mrs. Weasley gave a dismissive wave. "There's no need to make up your mind right now. You've earned a good, long rest. Take the time you need to decide now that your life is ahead of you without interruption."

"We hope," Harry quipped, earning himself a clout from Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins.

* * *

The grounds around Hogwarts were finally showing serious signs of spring thaw, but the sky was still a wintry gray, and it was cold. Probably not the ideal conditions for the still-convalescent Harry to venture out in, but when it came down to a choice between that and letting him climb the walls, his friends bundled him up and hauled him outside.

"You've been quiet lately," Ginny said as they watched Ron attacking Hermione with a slushy snowball. "What're you thinking about?"

"What McGonagall said," he told her honestly. "About my being an Auror."

He avoided her eyes, but she saw what he was thinking anyway. "You don't have to stick with that, you know. You talked to her about it a long time ago; she knows that. Lots of things have changed."

"But what else could I be?" he asked, sitting down on a convenient rock.

Ginny snorted, squelching her boots in the mud. "After everything you've done, I doubt anyone would care much if you never got a job. No, huh?" She grinned, seeing the look on his face. "No, I guess I can't see you as the idle rich either. Well, Mum was right that you don't have to decide right away. Most people don't know what they want to do until they've left Hogwarts."

"And how would you know?" he asked, but his tone was playful.

"I have six older brothers," she replied, not rising to his bait. "You could always come back to Hogwarts, you know. Finish your seventh year—oh, Mcgonagall will give you a pass if you want it, she's given Ron and just about everyone in the D.A. and the Order full credit for the year. Fighting in the war was proof enough we're fit for the real world, I suppose. But I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you decided to spend another year here as a student, give yourself a chance to be a student who isn't distracted by people trying to kill you all the time."

"McGonagall already told me she gave me a pass for seventh year," Harry said.

"Doesn't mean you _have_ to take it. Viktor Krum stayed over a year voluntarily."

"Don't let Ron hear you say that name." They both chuckled.

Ginny sat down next to him. "In any case, don't worry about it so much. You've earned the right to take as long as you want to decide, and you'll be great at whatever you do."

Harry felt himself blushing and looked across the grounds at Ron and Hermione, who had got themselves very distracted down by the lake. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

* * *

Awhile later, Harry managed to get out alone and enjoyed some time to himself outside—not that he disliked the company of his friends. He had purposely avoided the part of the grounds where the tomb was until now, but today, he found himself venturing in that direction. He didn't expect to see anyone else outside, so it gave him more than a small start to see a dark figure standing very close to the tomb.

Unsure of what to do, Harry stood there on the grounds for some time before Snape looked over and saw him. The man looked older and more worn than ever in the cold, gray daylight. He said nothing, and Harry couldn't think of anything to say either. His gaze slid from Harry back to the tomb, and Harry could guess then what he was thinking. The next thing he knew, his feet were carrying him forward. Snape didn't try to warn him off. Harry met Snape's gaze for a long moment before turning and putting a hand on the cold stone.

"Had you been here before?" he finally asked.

There was no answer, but he didn't dare look at Snape again. Thoughts raced through his head, but nothing made sense. Everything he had felt and believed when Dumbledore was buried here…it had all died in the exorcism the way he had died in the Tower. It was a toss-up deciding which had hurt the worst.

"I do not believe he intended you to suffer as you did," Snape surprised him by saying.

"Maybe not, but I wasn't the only one who 'suffered,'" Harry replied.

Now it was Snape's turn to look surprised. "I knew what I was getting into, Potter, I've told you that."

"Yeah, _you _knew, but nobody else did!" Harry exclaimed. "What if I hadn't ever found those memories? Nobody'd have known you were on our side!"

Shaking his head, Snape pointed out, "And you would not have cared about my fate had that been the case."

The idea that the fate of an innocent should mean nothing baffled Harry. Especially standing here next to Dumbledore's grave. The headmaster would never have wanted that to happen. _Would he?_ The question made him feel as cold and gray as the grounds around them. "I can't believe he'd have let that happen to you."

"I was a Death Eater, Potter. Whatever I suffered in this war was not enough to pay the debt I owe."

"You didn't used to think that," Harry remarked.

"My thinking has changed about many things."

"Do you have to be so careless about everything?" Harry burst out. "You're talking about an innocent person going to prison or worse, or being a slave for the rest of your life—it's not nothing!"

To his further frustration, Snape wasn't fazed. "You're too young to understand."

"I understand I lost my godfather because nobody knew he was innocent and nobody cared," Harry said more quietly. "And a murderer went free and brought Voldemort back."

Snape looked at him at the mention of Sirius, and his eyes hardened briefly, but then he looked down at the grave again. "Injustices happen. They cannot be helped."

"I don't believe it. We should try."

Snape actually laughed. "You're an idealist, Harry. You haven't learned the futilities of life yet."

"I've spent my life dealing with Voldemort, the Ministry, the _Daily Prophet_, and Rita Skeeter," Harry retorted. "Not to mention you."

"Touché," Snape admitted, and to both of their surprise, Harry found himself grinning.

"We managed to stop the Horcrux in spite of everything; it can't be as futile as you think."

Snape shrugged. "Who am I to argue with that?"

Harry looked over the muddy hills below the castle and said carefully, "If you didn't have the debt to Dumbledore, what would you do now?"

"You're not very subtle."

"You keep talking about what I want!" Harry snapped, rounding on him. "What I _want_ is for you to not…be this. Not to me. I don't want a…slave."

He looked back at Snape, and the two of them locked eyes for several moments. At length, Snape relented. "The peace of Agawa Bay agreed with me—your condition aside."

Harry grinned wryly. "I guessI was probably a bit of a distraction."

"How much do you remember?"

"It comes and goes. It's all kind of fuzzy. I remember doing things but not why I did them. I'm not sure what was real and what was dreams."

"I am not surprised. The destruction of the Horcrux may result in the fading of the memories that you shared with it."

"Good riddance, if you ask me," Harry said.

"And yourself? What do you intend to do here?" Harry didn't answer right away, and Snape's black eyes probed him. "Shall you pursue your Auror studies now?"

After a long silence, Harry sighed and shook his head. "You knew I wouldn't, didn't you?"

"It is not a failure on your part, Harry. You have been through a great deal."

"I know, I just…I was so determined once, to get there. The memory seems weird now, but not the way the Horcrux memories do."

"You're entitled to change your mind," Snape pointed out, and Harry caught the irony in his voice.

"Yeah…Professor McGonagall says I can stay at Hogwarts as long as I want."

"She will be able to keep the Ministry and the _Daily Prophet_ away at least," Snape said. "You might also consider teaching, once the school reopens."

Harry blinked. That idea hadn't occurred to him. It must have showed, because Snape went on, "By all accounts, your 'students' in your defense association acquitted themselves well in the war. And Minerva will need a new Defense professor."

"I'd be dead in a year!" Harry laughed. "And you couldn't seriously be thinking of me teaching Potions."

Snape paused for a moment, then said, "The Dark Lord's curse on the Defense position is not absolute."

"What?"

"It was modified by Dumbledore," the former professor went on inscrutably. "If Minerva does not already know, you might suggest she ask his portrait." He tilted his head, regarding Harry thoughtfully. "You may well be what he had in mind, in general if not specifically."

* * *

Harry couldn't have made his desire clearer, Severus decided. He supposed it would be selfish to continue inflicting his presence on the boy when it was obviously nothing but associated with bad memories.

_He wants me gone, for his peace of mind if not his conscience. It may not be quite what Albus had in mind, but it will accomplish his ends._

And to return to Agawa Bay and pursue his research in solitude was hardly an unpleasant prospect—it appealed to him, actually. Harry would be fine. Minerva, Lupin, and the Weasleys were watching the boy closely, and they would see to his recovery. Severus had assisted as far as Harry would allow. It was time to let the boy go.

Minerva did surprise him a few days later by offering him the Potions Professorship. "You were and remain the best teacher of that subject we have ever had, Severus. And we'll need all the help we can get rebuilding trust in this school."

"Trust? With me here?" Severus found that amusing.

"Don't be obtuse," she said impatiently. "Your true role in bringing Voldemort down is well-known. You are as much a hero of the war as Harry."

"And you know how I loathe that word. Thank you, Minerva, but I would prefer to stay as far from the adoring masses as possible. Not to mention that I do not think my presence here would be conducive to Harry's recovery," he pointed out.

Minerva stared. "What makes you think that?"

"I am nothing but a reminder of a great deal of misery for him. If I stay, he will leave, for some place far less protected. He's better off with you. I suspect he'll take the Defense job in due time."

Minerva nodded. "So do I. Bill Weasley will teach it next year, but he is closely involving Harry in the curriculum planning. All the same," she went on. "I don't wish to lose you again."

As startling as the sentiment was from her, Severus shrugged it off. "You know where I will be. I see no reason why you may not consult me whenever you wish. But Harry will be better served by my remaining at a distance."

Minerva smiled. "I would not have expected your motives to be so centered on Harry's welfare."

Severus glared at her, but supposed he'd brought that on himself. "It is my own desire as well. I would as soon flee from the mocking throng."

"No one mocks you, Severus, nor are you lovelorn."

"Nor am I merry. You know what I mean. Harry has made it clear that he is not easy in my presence."

She eyed him. "And Harry's presence? Does it affect you?"

Irritated by her probing, so reminiscent of Albus, he spoke curtly. "My desires have little do to with him. My associations are not as emotional as his."

With that, he turned away, but not before he caught her skeptical expression.

* * *

It was raining when Severus departed for Agawa Bay.

True to his expectations, Harry had kept his distance since they had spoken beside Dumbledore's tomb, but the boy did approach when he saw Severus hovering his bag to the door.

"You're leaving now?"

"There will be things to harvest at this time of year in Agawa Bay. It is the ideal season to resume my research," Severus told him.

Looking out the window, Harry leaned against the wall. "I guess I never was much good at Potions."

"No," agreed Severus, but without malice. Harry sensed it and smiled faintly without looking at him. "But you preferred Defense to begin with."

Silence followed, and then Harry's brow furrowed. Severus waited until the boy fixed him with a quizzical gaze. "How did you know I would escape the curse?"

He smirked. "Had I not known its history, I would have assumed Dumbledore made the alteration to it with you in mind."

"He didn't cast it, though. Voldemort did."

"And in a roundabout fashion, Dumbledore felt that the curse might actually have its use. If not for the reasons that Riddle had in mind." Harry frowned, and Severus nodded. "But Albus was able to modify the curse to serve a purpose of his own. Oh yes, Potter, did you not recall that Quirrell taught Defense for several years running before his fall?"

The idea seemed more than a little distasteful to Harry, and Severus wondered if he had erred by letting the boy know that aspect of the Defense job. "So you think he…" Harry looked away again.

Snape shrugged. "In any case, I suspected, as did Minerva, that you possess the requisite 'purity of heart' to satisfy Albus."

Harry's eyes darkened. "There's nothing pure about me. If I passed their test, Bill Weasley should have too."

"Bill Weasley is a normal man, subject to temptation," Severus began, but then bit back the rest.

Harry anticipated him anyway. "And I'm not normal."

"For better or worse, no, you are not." He was surprised then by the sudden gratification it gave him to make Harry Potter laugh. "You have faced events that few wizards could survive with their sanity intact, let alone their conscience. Whether a native disposition or the result of your experiences against Voldemort, you are untempted by the power inherent in the study of dark magic. You will not be corrupted by prolonged exposure to it as a teacher." Severus regarded Harry thoughtfully. "Does the position not interest you?"

"No, it does," Harry said quickly. He smiled. "A lot, actually, the more I think about it."

"You might be well-advised to study and sit your N.E.W.T.s this year, in that case. On the off-chance you have enemies remaining at the Ministry or the Board of Governors, there will be no irregularities with your qualifications."

Harry nodded. "That's the plan. Hermione's sitting hers in three months, so she can start the Transfiguration position next year."

"And Weasley?"

"Dunno yet, but Madam Hooch is thinking about retiring soon, so the flying and Quidditch coaching'll be open then."

"Being here with your friends appeals to you, I take it."

"Yeah. A lot." Harry seemed bewildered by the idea of having things in life to look forward to again. Severus had long known such a concept was unfamiliar to himself, but he was not used to seeing others who had been in the same trap as he.

_He will be happy, then, _he told himself. The boy had made it clear what he wanted where Severus was concerned, and by abiding by his wishes and keeping his distance, Severus would serve him best. Aloud, he told Harry, "Agawa Bay remains open to you, if you wish. Owls from you will find me."

Harry looked surprised by that, but shrugged. "Ginny was wondering about it. Where we'd been, I mean."

"You are free to bring anyone that you wish. Minerva has access as well, if it is needed." Harry nodded. Severus almost reminded him that the debt meant he remained in Harry's service, but decided against it. The point was made, and mention of the debt only upset the boy.

"You'll be happy, then?"

Severus eyed him. _You should know enough of me not to ask that. _"I will be content." Harry caught his meaning and frowned. "Be content with that, Harry. If you truly wish me to choose my own path—"

Harry interrupted. "I do. I understand—well, not really, I guess, but if that's what you really want…"

"It is."

Harry's eyes wandered from Snape's bag to the closed door. Severus wondered why the boy would be so reluctant now to see him go. Didn't he realize that his memories would fade far sooner without so great a reminder about?

_Silly, sentimental Gryffindor._

That was all it was, of course. Potter couldn't possibly want him to stay.

He reminded himself of that, so that he wouldn't need an explanation of why Harry stared after him in the hallway as Severus walked out the door.

_**To be continued…**_

_**Coming soon: **The eyes of our heroes turn forward as thoughts turn to moving on, but it's harder than certain people think to shed the connections to the past—and to each other—in Chapter 13: Bound!_

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!**


	13. Bound

**_A/N:_** _This is it, dear readers, the completion of my second-largest fic in the Harry Potter universe, my answer to HBP. I've had a lot of fun writing it over the past year, and many thanks to all of you for your great patience during the long delays. I hope you've enjoyed it too, and PLEASE take a moment to review to give me your final thoughts on the conclusion of this tale!_

**_Also:_** _I'm pleased to announce that my _Pirates of the Caribbean _story, **The Curse of the White Sword**, is now complete, and **International Magical Co-operation** is also updated today!_

**Chapter Thirteen: Bound**

Ginny watched Harry pore over Defense books with a concentration that would put Hermione to shame. "After Bill's job already, are you?"

"He wanted to know what I thought of them, actually," Harry murmured, before he looked up and realized she was teasing him. He smiled sheepishly, rather like a much younger Harry she only vaguely remembered anymore. "So complain to him about using me as hired help."

"You are hired help," she pointed out, grinning.

"Then what are you doing?" he asked, moving over so she could sit closer to him.

"Bucking for House points, of course."

"And importuning a member of the staff, Miss Weasley, I'm shocked!"

Harry and Ginny jumped apart, jostling the library table they were sitting at, both of them turning scarlet. Hermione grinned wickedly at them. "See if I ever turn a blindeye to you and Ron snogging again," Harry growled, but he was grinning too.

"Just don't think Madam Pince won't wear you out if she catches you," Hermione warned, collecting fallen books and stacking them back up on the table.

"Haven't you heard?" Ginny asked. "She's retiring."

"Good lord, no! I thought she'd never leave!" Hermione cast a speculative glance over the library, as Ginny had known she would.

"I guess she thought the end of the war would be the right time—quitting while ahead and all that," said Harry. "Why, are you thinking you'd like that job along with teaching Transfiguration?"

Hermione sighed. "That wouldn't exactly be feasible; they're both full-time positions."

"I think Headmistress would throw a wobbler if you didn't take the Transfigurations position. She's very particular about who will succeed her," Ginny said. "And when it comes right down to it, being librarian is rather mindless, isn't it? I'd be bored."

Hermione's expression went from wistful to outraged. "Being a librarian is anything _but_ mindless, Ginny Weasley! There's more to such a job than just checking books in and out. Not to mention I see a great deal of appeal in a post that would allow me the time for research of my own, and where better than here?"

Harry shot Ginny a faint smirk and returned his attention to his books. As Hermione wandered off into the stacks, he muttered, "Bill's talking about the Transfigurations job after he finishes teaching Defense."

"Good thing," Ginny sniggered. "I suppose it's not that big a surprise, Hermione preferring to live in the library and do research all the time." Then Harry frowned. "What?"

"Nothing." He stared at the page beneath his hand without reading it.

Ginny eyed him. "You could send an owl, you know."

Without looking up, Harry just shook his head.

"Why not?"

"He doesn't want to hear from me."

"I don't think he knows what he wants," Ginny said, hiding her resentment of Snape from Harry. Harry no longer liked to hear the former professor criticized, especially regarding his decision to leave. "Harry, he does still feel beholden to you; he won't complain if—"

"He is NOT beholden to me!" Harry snapped, green eyes flashing.

Having seen Harry's temper at full burn many a time, Ginny wasn't terribly bothered by his ire itself, but rather that this was one of the only subjects that could raise it. "I'm not calling that stupid fake 'debt' of his. Ever."

"I didn't mean it like that—"

"I don't want to talk about it, Ginny." His tone left no room for doubt. She sighed, and he softened a little, but repeated, "I don't want to talk about him."

He returned his attention to his books, and Ginny sighed.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was somewhat taken aback to find Harry Potter immured in the library when any respectable seventeen-year-old ought to be outside enjoying the spring. Not that Potter looked his seventeen years; with his eyes focused on his book, he appeared fully adult. And yet at other moments, he seemed absurdly young to have done all that he'd done over the past few years.

_Will that child ever fully heal?_ she wondered.

Remus Lupin and Molly Weasley were in a constant state of worry about Harry's mental health. Minerva and the more objective Order members were of the opinion that the young man was not likely to pose a danger to himself or anyone else, but there could be little doubt that Harry remained overshadowed by his experience. He was quiet, painfully so at times, and his eyes still looked haunted.

But fussing over him would accomplish nothing. So she folded her arms and said, "So, Mr. Potter? Is it you I have to thank for Miss Granger's change in career plans?"

The situation was hardly hopeless, she reminded herself; the sly smile and mischievous flicker in green eyes was proof of that. Harry gave her an overly-innocent look and said, "Actually, it was Ginny's idea. She mentioned Madam Pince is retiring."

"I do hope she's prepared to furnish me with a new Transfigurations professor if I'm unable to fill that post," Minerva replied, feigning irritation.

Harry didn't miss a beat. "Should I apply?"

Severus had always complained of "Potter's cheek" in the past; Harry had never appeared so to Minerva, so she had dismissed it as petty ranting, but now she wondered if there was a grain of truth there. She pushed back another pang of regret, for the boy who should have had far more opportunities to fully develop his cheeky potential, and for the man who had been far more valuable to the school and that boy than anyone had given him credit for. "I do not believe you completed seventh year Transfigurations."

"Neither did Hermione."

"Actually, she did." Harry looked surprised. "You did not know? She pursued independent study in several subjects early last autumn, and will sit her N.E.W.T.s in another month."

He chuckled wryly. "She'll pass them all, I suppose."

"Quite impressively, I have little doubt." Minerva took the seat opposite him without invitation and examined the titles of the texts he was reading. "Our Professor Weasley has quite an aggressive curriculum in mind."

"There's no point in a Defense class that doesn't teach you how to defend yourself."

"Was that your idea?"

"No, Bill's. But he's right."

"The Ministry will not be entirely pleased. There are still those concerned about teaching aggression to schoolchildren," Minerva said carefully, watching his reaction.

She got what she hoped for. "The Ministry can go hang," Harry replied, if not with the fierce emotion of his former days, at least with conviction. "People aren't leaving school unprotected just for their paranoid peace of mind." Then he caught Minerva's suppressed smile and raised his eyebrows. "Or are you teasing me?"

She was mildly insulted. "I do not tease, Harry Potter. It was a fair warning. However, I have no doubt that you are capable of handling the Ministry now."

Harry blushed.

* * *

It was as well that the Headmistress had warned Harry, because the Hogwarts Board of Governors paid the school a surprise visit a few weeks later, to introduce the newly-elected members to the Headmistress, and to "see to it the school's in working order for the autumn opening."

Harry was in Bill and Fleur's quarters with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny as they all got ready for dinner. "Right nuisance, I think," Ron said, squirming as Hermione fussed with his collar.

"Hold still!"

"And we all know what they're really doing here," Ginny muttered, examining her hair in the mirror next to Fleur. "Snooping about Harry."

Harry shrugged, leaning back on the sofa. "We knew someone from the Ministry'd turn up sooner or later."

"Technically-speaking, the Board of Governors aren't part of the Ministry," said Bill. "On the other hand, I'd bet Galleons to gnomes that Lucius Malfoy's replacement is a Ministry ringer."

"Do you think zey will cause Hogwarts trouble?" Fleur asked, pausing from brushing Bill's hair to cast a nervous glance at Harry.

Ron and Hermione too exchanged worried looks, but Harry waved them off. "Can't be any worse than the trouble they've caused before."

"Knock on wood, mate," said Ron.

"Not that much worse, anyway," Harry amended it with a wry grin.

Ginny came to sit next to him. "I'm rather surprised you're coming to dinner with that lot at all—I'd be trying to beg off under any circumstances."

"I figured I'd have to deal with them eventually. Half the Order's here tonight. And while the defeat of Voldemort's fresh in their mind, maybe they'll still be a bit afraid of me." Hermione and Ginny giggled, and Ron applauded.

"That's the spirit!"

"Where's Fred and George?" Hermione asked as they left for the Great Hall.

Bill snorted. "Mum and Dad found an excuse to get them well out of the castle this evening. As much as I'm not terribly worried about the Board, I'd prefer that our first meeting with them before reopening _not_ include the twins."

"Now _zat_ is a wise choice!" Fleur declared, and they all laughed.

* * *

Far be it for life to be too easy for them. The person elected to replace Lucius Malfoy on the Hogwarts Board of Governors was Cornelius Fudge.

"Always did take a serious interest in magical education," he prattled. "So when I put my name forward for the position, Minister Scrimgeour gave me his full support. I've got many good ideas for making improvements to Hogwarts."

Harry stiffened, but Hermione put a light hand on his arm. He, Ron, and Ginny looked at her, but she gave an imperceptible shake of her head. "He's posturing," she murmured, out of earshot of the head table where the Headmistress sat with the Governors. "They're not going to give him any power over them, not the newest elected Governor."

Regarding the other eleven rather puffed-up, ostentatiously-dressed wizards at the head table, Harry decided she was probably right; that lot didn't look like they wanted any change to the current routine that would involve more work for them. _Probably why Dumbledore was able to get away with as much as he did, _he thought with a mental sigh. Of course, much of what Dumbledore had got away with had kept Harry alive, but Harry's feelings about Dumbledore were too conflicted anymore for thoughts of him to be comforting.

"And Mr. Weasley's to be confirmed as Defense professor, no trouble there," one of the Governors, a Mister Oswald Sturdevant-Phipps, was saying. "Good man, Weasley. Good credentials." He nodded to Bill at the teachers' table.

"Much obliged, sir," said Bill with a blithe smile, before winking at Harry and the others.

"Have you had the chance to review my submission of Miss Granger for the position of Librarian?" Headmistress McGonagall asked.

Mister Reginald Derringswankham waved dismissively. "Yes, yes, no problem with that, although I have to say, it seems a dreadful waste of talents for a witch of Hermione Granger's abilities to be shuffling books about." This time it was Harry who put a restraining hand on Hermione's arm, while Ginny began sneezing quietly into her napkin.

"Have we got any names for the Transfigurations position yet?" Sturdevant-Phipps asked.

"Hard slot to fill, that one," Mister Benedict Primblemon pointed out, sounding pleased with himself for the observation. Ron shot Harry and Ginny an appalled look, and Harry distinctly saw Hagrid roll his eyes.

"I am in discussions with Madam Weasley regarding the post," said the Headmistress, nodding to Fleur. "We had thought to appoint Remus Lupin to the position, but he is also qualified to teach Potions, which Madam Weasley is not, which would have the advantage of filling two positions with limited applicants."

"How's the curriculum there at Beauxbatons? I trust you frogs at least know your Transfigurations, eh?" Primblemon simpered.

Fleur froze with a forkful of lobster halfway to her mouth, Hermione's mouth fell open, and Madam Pomfrey buried her face in her hands as everyone else in the Great Hall who wasn't one of the Governors tried not to fall out of their chairs. The governors, however, were sniggering at the cleverness of the joke, while McGonagall shot Fleur a VERY apologetic look. Fleur leaned across the table to some of the other Order members.

"'e did not really say zat, did he?"

"Think 'e did," Hagrid muttered, blushing. "Glad Olympe ain't here."

"I wish she was," Moody said with a nasty smile. "Bloody useless dolts, every one of them."

"Have to say, Minerva, I don't know about appointing a werewolf as Potions Professor," Sturdevant-Phipps went on. Tonks scowled, and Harry agreed with her sentiment, but they'd all expected this. "Parents'll complain."

"Qualified teachers of Potions are difficult to come by, Oswald, even more so than Transfigurations," McGonagall replied. "And I have complete faith in Professor Lupin, whatever the subject he is chosen to teach. He was, you recall, an instrumental and unswervingly loyal member of the Order of the Phoenix against Lord Voldemort."

"Don't know," Fudge said. "You know there are those in the Ministry with…reservations…about allowing half-breeds in contact with children."

"He's not a half-breed," Harry said sharply, ignoring Hermione's hand on his arm.

All twelve governors jumped in their seats at the sound of Harry's voice, and he was a little gratified to notice a few of them shooting glares at Fudge. But then Primblemon spoke up, albeit with far less assurance than before, "The Council of Magical Beasts and Beings has been discussing the status of werewolves since before you were born, Mr. Potter, and they constitute—"

"He…is… _not…_a half-breed," Harry repeated, glaring at the man as hard as he could. Primbledon gulped and looked at the others. Someone kicked Harry under the table.

Derringswankham cleared his throat. "Well, as Minerva says, Lupin did good work in the war, and his qualifications are fair. Whatever our reservations about werewolves in general, this one's done enough to merit a bit of trust, so long as he's not unduly influential with the students or loose on the grounds…"

Ginny pinched Harry hard, which robbed him momentarily of any breath to respond, but the Headmistress mercifully changed the subject. "In any case, I expect there will be a good deal of reassignment of the staff after this first year. We have many people in new positions immediately after the war who may desire to move onto other things or teach subjects that appear to be a better fit. And I for one am hoping that as our world becomes accustomed once again to peace, more qualified teachers will be interested in seeking work at Hogwarts. I have plans for the reworking of several class curriculums, including Muggle Studies, Divination, and Defense, as well as the creation of new courses in more fundamental subjects that are not primarily magical."

"Taking your cues from the Americans, are you?" said Moody, raising his flask to her in a salute.

"The Japanese, actually, were the first to incorporate fundamental maths and non-magical sciences into their curriculum," McGonagall said. "I've been corresponding with their Professor Toda of the Osaka Hall of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the past two weeks, and I've come to believe that such a program would greatly improve our students' education."

"The maths I can see the benefit of," mused Professor Vector, "but what sort of sciences do you have in mind?"

"Professor Sprout and I have been talking with Neville Longbottom, Professor Hagrid, and some of the Healers at St. Mungo's about creating a new course in biology," Madam Pomfrey said. "I've found that Muggleborn students tend to know a good deal more on the subject of basic human and animal anatomy than our wizard-raised children, which puts the latter at a disadvantage when they seek to enter Healer studies. An expansion of our curriculum is long overdue."

"The same holds true for Herbology—our Muggleborn students grasp the fundamentals far better, as they are taught simple plant biology in Muggle school," Professor Sprout added.

The governors looked at each other and shrugged. Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry and Hermione shared a smirk. "If everyone here's for it, don't see the problem," said Sturdevant-Phipps. "Although you'll get the usual pureblood objections to deviation from magical study."

"It's hardly a deviation, but rather a complement," said Professor Sprout. "Magic is not the cause of all workings of the universe, and it's certainly not the only tool. All plants and animals need food, water, and air to live, and the patterns of arithmetic can be found in spells and magical objects as surely as in counting one's money at Gringott's."

"Can't argue with that, I suppose," said Derringswankham. Ginny elbowed Harry and nodded toward Fudge. The former Minister looked disgruntled.

"I don't think his idea of improvement to Hogwarts is the same as Professor McGonagall's," she muttered.

"I don't think his idea was for improvement to _Hogwarts_," Hermione whispered back, and they all snickered.

"Sure you can't be persuaded to accept your Order of Merlin, Mr. Potter?" one of the governors suddenly asked.

Everyone sitting near Harry winced, and he looked up, startled. "No!" He hadn't meant to sound quite so emphatic, and McGonagall was giving him a pleading look. He forced a smile and groped around for something diplomatic to say, finally settling on, "Seeing the wizarding world free again is reward enough for me, sir."

Ron choked on his crème brulee, and most of the Order members stifled laughter.

Primbledon shrugged. "Well, most of your colleagues here took theirs, and your name is on the plaque with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix ranks in the Ministry Atrium." Harry caught Hermione and Ron looking nervous, but let it go. He supposed they'd find some way to drool over him. "Right under Dumbledore's, in fact, rest his soul."

Beside Harry, Ginny sucked in her breath, and his heart did clench at hearing that, but he managed to keep that thin smile plastered on his face and nodded like an idiot. "Ahem. A lot of people did great things in the war," Tonks said hurriedly. "They're talking of renaming the Magical Law Enforcement Department after Madam Bones."

"Good woman, Amelia. Damn shame," Moody agreed. "It'd be a fit tribute."

Sturdevant-Phipps gestured with a piece of broccoli. "In fact, the only one aside from Potter there who didn't accept his award was that Snape character."

Harry went rigid, but the governors didn't notice. "What ever happened to him?" one of them asked.

"Thought he was dead."

"No, he was at Hogwarts in the immediate aftermath," said Fudge. "Some final details or other, so the Headmistress says."

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Merely making certain that we'd accounted for all Voldemort's remaining strongholds and followers."

"Pfft. Keeping his nose clean, as it were, eh?" Fudge contemplated his asparagus. "Never thought much of that one—unsavory, he seemed. I rather wondered why he was offered the Order of Merlin at all."

"Well, he was in the Order," said Primbledon.

"He was a Death Eater before that," Sturdevant-Phipps replied. "Turned spy, so Dumbledore said, but the old man was always too trusting for his own good. We all know it was Snape who killed him—"

"Gentlemen!" McGonagall said sharply. "I must remind you that the Headmaster's death remains a painful subject for the staff here."

The governors blinked simultaneously. "Ah, right. Sorry about that. I suppose it's to be expected, an end like that. Still," Fudge munched on his food and blathered on, "if Snape were the best candidate for a professorship, I'd as soon take a werewolf." Ginny was squeezing Harry's arm so hard that her knuckles had turned white. His blood was starting to thunder in his ears. "At least Lupin here was a _real _Order member. Honest, you know."

Lupin was watching Harry nervously, but neither he nor any of the others could seem to think of a means of cutting off this line of discussion.

"I agree," Primbledon said. "Untrustworthy. Questionable loyalties right to the end. Glad he's not around anymore, doesn't belong at Hogwarts. Doesn't belong among decent people."

Moving carefully to hide his anger, Harry got up from his seat, turned away from the head table, and left the Great Hall.

* * *

Remus found Harry in the library, staring at the first page of a Defense book. "The Board of Governors is made up of bureaucratic fools, more interested in the status of the position than any responsibility associated with it. Pay no mind to them."

Without looking up, Harry muttered, "I don't."

Remus didn't argue, but sat down across from him. "Do you want to talk?" Harry shook his head. "All right."

But instead of leaving, he found himself a pile of Potions books that he ought to peruse while planning the course material for next year and returned to sit beside Harry. They read in somewhat companionable silence until Harry noticed that it was Potions Remus was working on, and stared at the books for several minutes. Then he rested his head on his arm on the table, looking tired and sad. Remus put an arm around him.

"They and many others are wrong about Severus, Harry."

Harry smiled wanly. "I know. And everyone who matters knows." Then he looked at Remus. "Would people have hated him so much if I hadn't said…so much about him?"

"You mean when you disliked him?" Remus asked. Harry nodded. "Remember, you're not the only one who influences opinions, and Severus has never been easy to get along with. Nearly twenty years worth of Hogwarts students have had opinions of their own of Professor Snape."

"But I was the one who saw what happened in the Tower," Harry said. "I told everyone he murdered Dumbledore!"

"You told us what you saw," Remus said firmly. "And had anyone else been there, they would have thought the same thing. You saw what _Albus _wanted you to see, don't forget that. Although attitudes towards Severus have hardly been friendly, the assumptions made by many on our side—deliberately instigated, you know—may well have saved his spying work, and by extension, his life. And by further extension, countless other lives."

Harry still looked troubled and leaned back in his seat. "I don't understand him."

"There's no reason why you should."

The look in the boy's eyes startled Remus then, and Harry's words startled him even more. "Yes, there is."

* * *

Ginny was shaken at first when Hermione and Ron went running around the castle in a panic, saying that Harry was gone. But once she heard from Professor Lupin about his conversation with Harry that morning, she calmed down and told Ron and Hermione to do the same.

"I think he's gone to Canada."

When she suggested that to McGonagall, the Headmistress looked relieved and comprehending, but Ron and Hermione simply looked baffled. "Why would he do that?" Ron demanded.

"He has his reasons, Mr. Weasley, I'm sure," said McGonagall.

* * *

The early Canadian spring was yielding a great array of magical plants, herbs, and fungi, and Severus found himself very busy almost every day, harvesting, preserving, and storing. The conditions around the house posed a problem initially, but some creative warding and protective charms kept the premises safe, and granted him access in and out.

During his foraging excursions, he found the oak tree that had been infested with Brown Leechvine—the growth had worsened over the past months, and the tree was now visibly dying. Severus found, to his utter astonishment, that he actually entertained thoughts of trying to kill the parasite and save the tree, despite how far gone it was and the danger to every other plant for miles. Instead, he put up a narrow Barrier Charm around the infected oak to keep anything from carrying the Leechvine's seeds to other plants, and left it.

It was a good thing he'd got away from Potter and the rest of those Gryffindors when he did.

He was returning from harvesting magical lichens from the rocks at the base of cliffs one afternoon when he spied a figure sitting on the steps of the house. Startled, he dropped his prizes and went for his wand, but the figure rose, and he realized who it was.

"Potter?"

The boy looked a good deal healthier than he'd been when Snape had last seen him, but he seemed rather small, like a nervous schoolboy again. "Sir."

Severus collected himself, retrieved his gathered lichens, and went to meet him. "What brings you back here?"

Potter shrugged, toeing the stones under his feet. "I wanted to see it again, I guess. If it's the same as I remember it."

He was lying, of course, but Severus elected not to press him. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Most of the day."

"What?" Severus looked at him incredulously. "I told you this house remains open to you. You need not have waited for me."

The boy's eyes hardened. "I wanted to."

Severus mentally shook his head. _Silly child. _But there was no point in arguing—it would only lead to mention of the debt, and that would almost certainly send Potter into histrionics all over again. So he simply led the way into the house.

Potter was quiet when they entered, looking around with a slightly-furrowed brow as if trying to reconcile what he saw with the fading memories of the Horcrux. Hmm, perhaps the boy wasn't being entirely untruthful, although Severus kept expecting him to broach some new subject.

That thought was cut off when Hattie came into the hall and balked at the sight of Potter. She recovered quickly and began offering food, drink, bed, and anything else he wanted, but the boy wasn't fooled.

"Hattie, I'm sorry."

"What? Oh, Master Harry is silly—when would Masters like dinner?"

Potter shot a distressed glance at Severus and knelt, trying to get the elf's attention as she bustled around him. "Hattie—"

Hattie dodged his hand, under the guise of continuing to flutter around, but Severus did not miss the self-preservation in the act, and neither did the boy. "Hattie."

She stopped, looking nervously at him.

"Master Harry wishes to speak to you. You will stay where you are and listen."

The elf obeyed, but cringed. Potter noticed and sighed. "I treated you badly when I was here before, and I'm sorry. I…wasn't myself."

Severus had to restrain a laugh, but the elf's ears drooped timidly, "Master Harry need not apologize…"

"Master Harry is apologizing, and you will listen to it," Severus informed her before he could catch himself.

With a quick glance at Snape, Hattie then patted Harry's hand. "No harm was done, young Master. Hattie understands Master was ill."

"Get up now, Potter, you've made your obeisance and repentance," Severus told him.

Surprisingly, the boy obeyed, blushing slightly. "I just thought it was the right thing to do." Snape refrained from snorting. "I was sick, Hattie, and I'll be a lot less trouble this time." He grinned.

"Maybe now that Master Harry is back the nasty snakes will go away?"

"What?" Harry exclaimed, just as Severus hissed, "Hattie!"

The elf's eyes went wide. "Oh no! Bad Hattie! Bad Hattie!"

She only managed to hit herself with her feather duster twice before Harry grabbed her. "Stop it!" She stopped, staring at him tearily. "What are you talking about?"

Hattie looked at Severus, and Harry turned accusingly to him. "Your serpent friends seem convinced that I did away with you," he admitted. "I've had to ward the house and the vicinity to keep them away, but they still surround the area. Perhaps there is something you can do, then."

Releasing Hattie with an order not to punish herself, Harry made for the door. "Yeah, let me talk to them. I'll send them away."

"They are aggressive," Severus warned, trying to pull him back, but the boy shook his head.

"They're…" he paused and dropped his eyes. "They're like that because I taught them to be." Severus frowned, and Harry looked at him. "I told them things…I shouldn't have, I made them dangerous to people. Snakes aren't evil—they didn't know those things until I told them."

"You were influenced by the Horcrux," Severus quietly reminded him.

"Still," Harry straightened his shoulders and went outside. "I have to explain it to them now. Or more people will get bitten—I encouraged them to bite people!"

Snape eyed him, then relented, "Very well. I will drop the wards. Do not endanger yourself; they may be confused."

The boy nodded. Severus lowered the outer wards, but kept a mild ward-off charm around himself and Potter, in case the serpents became agitated.

The results were instantaneous: the bushes rustled as snakes of all sizes and colors came slithering directly toward the house. Despite his awareness of the ward that would keep them from actually touching either of them, Severus nearly reached out and pulled Potter back. Even the boy stiffened as the creatures surrounded him.

Then Harry knelt and began speaking in Parseltongue. The serpents reared up as though startled, tasting the air with their tongues, but then one of them, a large Rat Snake almost nine feet long, began answering him. Harry spoke back, and whatever he said, the snakes did not like it. Several of them began hissing in a threatening manner, rearing away when Harry extended a hand, and Snape suspected that only the ward-off charm kept the foolish boy from being bitten.

"What is it?"

"They don't believe it's me," Potter breathed, looking over his shoulder at Snape. "I don't smell right, they say!"

Severus carefully moved closer to him, getting warning hisses from the serpents. "The Horcrux affected both your mind and your body, as well as your magic. Many animals will sense such a change."

"But how can I make them understand? They'll attack any person they find if I don't!" Harry said in dismay.

Aware of the options before them, Snape replied, "You may not be able to."

Harry shook his head. "No. I have to convince them." He knelt and began talking to the creatures again, but they flattened their heads and hissed, some even lunging toward him. They did not trust the boy now, Severus could tell. Several began to turn and slide away into the bushes, and the boy started after them.

"Potter." It appeared to Severus that he would follow every one of the snakes, begging and pleading in Parseltongue, until he dropped or they bit him. "Potter." The boy's back remained to him, stubbornly arguing with the serpents, so Severus caught his arm. "Harry." The boy stopped and let Severus pull him to his feet, but he would not look at Snape. "You are a stranger to them now. They will not change the behavior taught them by the Horcrux."

"By me, you mean," Harry muttered.

"You were not—"

"Don't say it!" Harry wrenched away furiously. "You—of all people—don't you dare say it! It was me! We both know it was me no matter what excuse anyone comes up with!" Severus stared at him, startled, and he sighed and turned away. "They all act like I was possessed. Like he was completely in control of me and that's why I did all those things."

The boy's babbling made little sense. "The interaction between your own personality and the Horcrux is difficult to understand," Severus said carefully. "They may not comprehend exactly what its effect—"

Harry interrupted with a shake of his head. "That's not it. They're…they're in denial about…me. What I've done." He sighed. Severus simply waited and listened. "They think it wasn't me who did it. But it was, because…everything I did, it was because of things I felt before. Before the Horcrux, I mean." He sat down on the steps of the house, watching the snakes with a bleak expression.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "You felt an urge to train armies of vicious snakes?"

The boy laughed bitterly. "Sort of. I set a python on my cousin Dudley once—by accident, before I knew I could speak Parseltongue."

"I heard that—I thought you were inventing that story."

Harry shook his head. "No, it really happened; I was ten. Thought it was bloody funny. After Ron and Hermione explained Parseltongue to me, I used to think about…"

At last, comprehension of the Horcrux's hold over the boy dawned on Severus. By the look on Harry's face, he knew it. "You resent your friends?"

The boy winced, but muttered, "Sometimes."

The picture was strange in Snape's mind, but it began to come together. "And your fame."

Harry laughed. "_All_ the time."

"Why?"

"How can you not see?" he demanded. "The Ministry, the _Daily Prophet_, Rita bloody Skeeter, people staring and whispering and asking stupid questions…why the bloody hell were you so jealous?"

Severus opened his mouth to deny the suggestion, then closed it again. Harry scowled at him, then closed his eyes. "They laughed at me, you know," he said in a small voice.

"The _Prophet_? Yes."

"Not the _Prophet._ Ron and Hermione." Severus blinked, and Harry explained, "When Umbridge wouldn't teach us real Defense, and they wanted me to form the DA. It was because I got away from Voldemort—I told them I didn't really know how to fight, and they laughed at me!"

"You learned," Severus said quietly. "And you showed an inclination for teaching Defense."

"I know, but…a part of me…"

"Hated them for it, despite their rightness and their good intentions."

Harry nodded. "And they think I'm a bloody saint."

"Or perhaps they simply do not care," Severus pointed out. Harry frowned, and he went on, "You may find, Potter, that those who know you are less deluded about themselves and each other than face value suggests. By your age most individuals have recognized their own darker impulses. I doubt your friends are blind to what you are capable of."

"If that were true, how could they stand to be around me?" the boy protested.

Severus laughed at him. Ignoring the boy's offended look, he said, "This from the child who was horrified by the prospect of my being imprisoned for the crime of being a Death Eater—even though I am one."

"You were one."

"Precisely my point."

Harry sighed. "I don't understand. How can I just…forget what I did?"

"You can't," Snape informed him. "You can only live with it—without feeling sorry for yourself."

"And you'd know all about that!" Harry snapped, then winced and turned away.

Severus wasn't surprised. "So grant me the authority on the subject: it is a pathetic state of being. In addition, however inspired by your own more base impulses, the transition from thought to action was greatly influenced by the presence of the Horcrux. I—and I suspect your friends as well—would venture to opine that you would never have taken those actions, however great your anger, on your own. And your figurative self-flagellation for your relatively-minor crimes supports that."

"Minor?" Harry jumped to his feet, outraged. "I beat up Hattie for no reason, treated Ron, Hermione, and Ginny like…like—I nearly got you killed!"

"Yes, but you did not kill me. Or anyone. And do not," he anticipated Potter's next protest, "equate the Dark Lord's death with murder—that is an insult to his victims. It was not only Albus Dumbledore who forced that action on you; the Dark Lord WOULD have killed you that day, had you not defended yourself to the death. And he would have gone on killing: your friends, your teachers, everyone on the side of the Order." He folded his arms, unmoved by the boy's belligerent stance. "You are not the plucky hero, Potter, whatever the _Daily Prophet _says, but nor are you the black-hearted villain. Nor are you a martyr. To claim any such title is arrogant."

Potter looked somewhat chagrinned. "And I thought you thought I was the most arrogant prat to ever live."

"No, that was your father," Severus replied, surprised by his own good humor at the reminder. "You merely do not respond well to difficulty."

"And you do?" Harry exclaimed, but he was laughing.

Why that seemed reassuring, Snape could not guess. "I have never said that I did," he settled for answering.

Harry looked away. "You did better than me."

"Your friends and the Order would dispute that," Snape reminded him.

"They don't know." The boy's eyes darkened. "You're one of the Order. You are. They can't pretend you don't belong."

Severus suspected there was something else prompting Potter's attitude, but couldn't guess what had transpired to make the boy so vehement. All the same, he felt he ought to point out, "I care little where others think I belong."

Visibly irritated at Snape's lack of concern, Harry said, "I do."

"Why?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Closing his eyes, Harry muttered, "Because if you don't belong, neither do I. We…did too many of the same things."

Severus snorted. "Hardly." The boy started to argue, but he interrupted, "You don't know what you're talking about, Potter. Do not try to compare our actions. You do not know half of what I've done."

"Then why was what my dad did after your OWLs the memory you hid?" Potter demanded impertinently.

Severus glared at him, but the boy held his gaze. "What does it matter to you?"

Harry shrugged. "I've always wondered that actually—once I got over what was in the memory, anyway."

"You were not meant to see it."

"Not by _you_," Harry said dryly, but then looked somewhat ashamed. "Sorry. I didn't mean…I didn't know."

"Your curiosity has nearly been the death of you on a number of occasions, Potter, whatever Albus may think of its charm," Snape informed him.

"Wasn't just curiosity," the boy explained. "I thought you were hiding something about the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore wouldn't tell me what was going on. I just... When I saw my dad, I should've stopped, but…" Harry's eyes were bleak. "I never knew him, you know. Anyway, whatever Dumbledore did, it _was _me who looked."

Navigating the boy's roundabout attempt at apology and explanation, Severus shook his head. "What exactly is your point in all this?"

Harry flushed and looked at his feet, then at the serpents still creeping just out of reach of the house. "I guess it's that…I've done things because…I can. Doesn't matter why or whether I have to. I just did. No one made me. And now I…"

Severus figured out at last what the boy was getting at, and briskly gestured to the door. "There is no need. Go back inside. I'll deal with—"

"No!" Harry shot to his feet. "It was me who caused them to be dangerous. I'm the one who has to." He dropped Snape's eyes for a moment, then forced himself to look up again. "It was me," he insisted quietly. "It's not your responsibility."

A twinge of some strange emotion struck Severus then, for reasons he could not quite understand and didn't want to dwell on. "You need not punish yourself, Potter," he said without thinking. Harry blinked. "You've acknowledged your role in this…event," he went on, gesturing to the snakes. "It is not necessarily for you to end it yourself."

Harry waivered, then sighed and turned away. "Yes, it is," he said.

So Severus relented, but remained silently where he was as the seventeen-year-old in front of him turned to the animals he had talked with for weeks—and corrupted—and performed a spell that incinerated every living snake for a mile.

The magical fire had vanished in the time it took to draw a breath, and the hilltop around them was quiet, but for the whispering of the trees and the lapping of Lake Superior below the cliff. Severus stepped forward and put a hand on the trembling boy's shoulder.

"Snakes aren't evil," Harry said in a rough voice. "They're not. People think Parseltongue is dark because of snakes, but it's not. They weren't dangerous to people until they met me."

"Harry…" Severus searched for some consolation, but found none. He settled for reminding the boy quietly, "It's over."

* * *

Minerva McGonagall apparated to Agawa Bay the next day. The look on her face when she saw Harry indicated that she'd come looking for him. "Sorry," he said, chagrinned. "I guess I should have left a note."

"Quite," the Headmistress said, shooting Snape a reproachful glance.

Harry looked defensive at thtat. "He didn't know I was coming."

"Nor that you hadn't bothered to tell anyone," Severus added, giving the boy a glare of his own.

Minerva shook her head as Harry beat a hasty retreat down the path to the shoreline. "You and that child are far too much alike." At the expression on Snape's face, she snorted. "Well, you are! Really, Severus, it is _precisely _the sort of thing you would do, abscond without a word to anyone and assume that no one would miss you—precisely the sort of thing you have _done, _I should say."

"Hardly," he said, sounding miffed at being compared to Harry Potter. "You knew where I was going, as well as when and why." His eyes were focused on the shrinking figure of the boy moving down the water's edge, hands in his trouser pockets, and then he seemed to force himself to turn away. "Come in."

She followed him into the house and accepted tea from the elf. "Given the circumstances, it's the why that puzzles me."

"You know why," he said shortly and took a large swallow from his cup.

"If Potter desired you to be in self-imposed exile, why is he here?" she pointed out.

"Whoever said it was for him?"

"You did!"

"I did not!"

"Don't be coy with me, Severus Snape, it didn't work when you were my student either."

He glared at her—looking quite like a scolded student. "I…am…_not…_coy." She simply smiled. "And as I told you before, I have my own reasons for keeping away from the general public."

"Yes, yes. Suddenly, you are unable to withstand curious eyes and whispered gossip."

It was refreshing to goad him again. She had not had a chance to do it in quite some time. "I beg your pardon?"

"Tush, Severus, you have never cared in the slightest for the opinions or speculation of others, and however the last few months of the war have affected you," she gave him a knowing smirk, "I sincerely doubt that particular trait has changed. Your other reason, as you said before, was concern for Harry, which as I say now, would seem to be moot, given that he is here."

"He had unfinished business."

"Oh?"

Severus told her about the serpents. She grimaced. "Oh dear. You mentioned his dealings with them before you brought him back, but I had forgotten that they were not dealt with. Is he very unhappy?"

To one less acquainted with him, Snape's curt nod might have been interpreted as indifference. "He takes too much upon himself." This time he anticipated her next remark and scowled, so she withheld comment and raised her eyebrows innocently. "It had nothing to do with me!"

Minerva felt a pang then, for this confused man who would resist so fiercely the idea of anyone being attached to him or concerned for him. No longer having the heart to tease him, she said quietly, "You know that's not true."

"I know nothing," he snapped and put down his cup, stalking to the parlor window. Looking toward the water, she observed, where Harry had gone. _Or is your resistance to the idea that you yourself are capable of caring for another?_ Severus went on, "I am sure he will return to Hogwarts with you."

"More than likely," she agreed, irritated with him. "When, like yourself, he refuses to admit to anything that has passed between you, what choice does he have?" Severus turned sharply towards her, she went on coldly, "I am used to seeing seventeen-year-old boys play the martyr, but I would like to expect better from you."

His black eyes flashed, and he bared his teeth with a fury that was the terror of students. She, however, was quite used to it. "If you have come here to play Albus, you can bloody well leave."

_I'm impressed; you have not gone that low in quite some time!_ Aloud, Minerva met his temper with stony calm. "I prefer to think of it as intervening on Harry Potter's behalf, since heaven knows that boy won't speak up on his own. Not unlike you."

"_Potter _would prefer an ocean between us, Minerva!"

"You are _entirely _wrong, Severus, and either you are lying to me or you are lying to yourself!" she snapped. "If you had seen him during the Board of Governors' meeting yesterday, listening to their uninformed and disparaging remarks about you, you would not be able to deny it." Severus paused, his brow furrowed. Minerva continued, "I must say, _he _has changed. I recall a not-too-distant time when Harry Potter would hear no kind word about you; now he will hear no ill word against you." She added wryly, "I feared we would have an incident involving one or all of the governors ending up with asparagus protruding from various bodily orifices."

He could not contain a bark of laughter at that mental image, and muttered under his breath, "Perhaps we are more alike than I did realize." Then he caught himself. "That does not mean Potter wants me back at Hogwarts when he is to teach there."

"Harry, Severus. It is Harry now, you know it and I know it." Minerva smiled at him, unable to deny that she was now definitely channeling Albus Dumbledore—_but with the interests of Harry and Severus themselves in mind this time instead of any number of "greater goods", I do hope!_ "The war is over. There is no need for pretending anything."

All right, that came out sounding far more saccharine than she'd intended, and she knew she'd asked for it when Severus replied, "Does that mean you intend to shed your previous reputation as the second most frightening professor at Hogwarts in favor of…warm and fuzzy, I believe is the term?"

It was her turn to laugh incredulously. "Hardly. But I mean to enjoy life free of war." She folded her arms and stared him down. "And there is no reason why you may not do so as well."

Severus looked away. "Perhaps I have not earned it."

"Codswallop. I know all about your 'debt' to Albus, and while I do hope that wasn't his intent, his making it a lifelong obligation has led you to the conclusion that your penance must be lifelong. I do not agree, and nor, I am quite certain, does Harry." Severus looked back at her, frowning, and she pressed, "I know you were tempted by the Potions mastry again. There is no reason for you to refrain from taking the chance to please yourself at last."

He was wavering. She could tell. "I do not know if it would be wise."

"Harry wants you to come back, Severus. The two of your are connected irreversibly. You have shared experiences with that boy that his friends, however deeply they love him, cannot understand or relate to. Nor is there anyone other than Harry who can understand what you yourself went through."

By the look on his face, he knew it. "And you think this connection requires proximity?"

"I do," she told him. Seizing the last weapon in her arsenal, she drove it home. "Otherwise, I shall be forced to give the Potions position to Remus Lupin."

* * *

Fewer people than Severus had expected were genuinely surprised when he arrived back at Hogwarts with Minerva and Harry. Apparently more people than he or Harry had realized were in comprehension of the apparently-unbreakable connection that the past year's events had formed between himself and the boy.

Not that he and Harry talked about it. There really was not much to say. Harry never did ask him, on the day they returned or in the years that followed, why exactly he had chosen to do so. Perhaps Harry already knew the reasons.

Perhaps the reasons no longer mattered.

It was, however, easier than Severus expected to talk to Potter about other things. Ironically, what awkwardness remained between them was assuaged while the boy was immersed in his N.E.W.T. preparations. In a fit of insane courage (according to Ron Weasley, at any rate) Harry decided to make an attempt at his Potions N.E.W.T. along with the necessary Defense and other subjects. He approached Severus, calmly formal, just before his eighteenth birthday to request tutoring, and Severus presented him with the study plan that he normally used for seventh-year N.E.W.T. students. Well, in truth, he modified it somewhat in consideration of Potter's needs and schedule, but it didn't take a great deal of extra effort. And it did make him look well when Harry received an "Acceptable."

He found some aspects of the new curriculum to be somewhat disconcerting, but Miss Granger insisted that the additional coursework in biology and maths would have a positive impact on his students' comprehension of Potions.

And as usual, the girl was insufferably right.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry reopened on September 1st, with a host of students new and old, not to mention professors. There was, predictably, a good deal of whispering and gasping over the presence of Professor Potter, assistant to Defense Professor Weasley, but the student body quickly found that their legendary young professor's personality did not exactly match his reputation.

At school, Harry was a quiet young man, behavior sometimes interpreted by his students as shyness or timidity, but his first participation in a Defense practical killed that theory. Decisively. Harry Potter's prowess at combat spells was not to be exaggerated and quickly became the stuff of legend, but when students got up the courage to ask if he'd learned this fighting the Dreaded Lord Voldemort, the young teacher just smiled and demurred.

The presence of Ron and Bill Weasley as professors, not to mention Ginevra Weasley as their student, guaranteed that a fair number of the faculty could be seen using the Quidditch pitch almost as often as the House teams, and the group organized Hogwarts's first annual Teacher-versus-Student Quidditch match. Potter played Seeker. They lost, and Ron Weasley ranted for weeks about the injustice of Headmistress McGonagall's refusal to take Quidditch skill into account in her hiring practices.

Hermione Granger thought the whole thing was uproariously funny. Severus was quietly amused. He found himself in an unexpected meeting of the minds with the new librarian as well, the first time he saw her storming about the library fuming about student carelessness towards books.

When Harry took over the Defense position one year later, he was a good deal more tolerant of student foibles.

"_Perhaps if I were able to hex my students repeatedly in class as you do, I would be so as well," Severus remarked during a staff meeting. _

_The others laughed. "You really want this job again?" Harry asked with a too-innocent smile that had become something of a trademark with him, making the others (especially Lupin and the Weasleys) laugh harder._

"_Cheeky brat," Severus muttered, and earned himself a scolding from the Headmistress for "lack of professional courtesies._

Harry was indeed cheeky from his teens into his twenties and beyond, although it was often to subtle for the students to notice. He was nonetheless a popular professor, whereas Severus retained his title of Greasy Git in the eyes of the little urchins. Harry opined that Hogwarts would not be Hogwarts without a Greasy Git making the students miserable.

"_Keeps them on their toes."_

"_I see. Of course, you have no objection to myself playing the villain, whereas you remain the sainted boy-hero in their eyes."_

"_Well, if you want to trade places that badly…"_

If the students (or the faculty, for that matter), were puzzled by Professor Potter's and Professor Snape's increasingly-frequent collaborations on various oft-dangerous projects, no one ever got the courage to ask about it. Harry might not be terribly gifted with Potions, but Severus found himself appreciating the young man's creativity in coming up with bizarre magical problems to solve simply for the amusement of coming up with new spells.

By the time Potter was in his second year as Defense Professor, he and Snape had blown up the Potions laboratory four times. Then Granger got involved with one of their experiments and they blew up the entire dungeon, causing Headmistress McGonagall to ban them from testing their creations in the castle proper, so they built a shielded laboratory on the grounds near the Whomping Willow.

Ron Weasley promptly started a betting pool among the staff for how many times the thing would be demolished each year. There was also speculation on how long it would be before Harry Potter's list of magical achievements and accolades exceeded even that of Albus Dumbledore.

It was not to say that Severus Snape and Harry Potter ever forgot the events of the past, let alone their animosity. They rarely mentioned it to each other, and never to others, although they talked often enough about other things.

Perhaps that was the point—their ability to speak of other matters permitted them to leave the unpleasant ones behind. The past was not forgotten, but it was forgiven; even Severus could not deny that. After all, if that was the emotion that had destroyed the last remnant of Lord Voldemort in the world, creating a companionable professional relationship afterward wasn't all that difficult.

In time, they were even able to think and speak of Albus Dumbledore without resentment for the man's various machinations in their lives, quite possibly because they both had to admit that neither one of them would have survived the war without it. And for better or worse, it was he who had bound them to each other, not by a debt for crimes past or careful tutoring, but by their shared, unshakable loyalty to the man, whatever his own faults.

Interestingly enough, Dumbledore's portrait, although they consulted him on matters relating to the school and their work on occasion, never again mentioned the war, the Horcrux, or the exorcism, or his feelings for Snape and Harry. In all the years that followed, whatever they accomplished—and they accomplished a great deal—Dumbledore never said he was proud of them.

He did not need to.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

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